Wars
by themuse123
Summary: Alexandria's time is dwindling. Running low on food and ammo, they face destruction at the hands of the Wolves. It seems their only option is to send scouts out for medical supplies and a place to manufacture bullets, to fight until their last breath. Until they discover a community that may be able to turn the tides of the war. *Canon divergent*
1. Hello

**A/N: So. Hello! I'm on my fanfic b.s. again! :D A few things to note beforehand: this is technically an AU of my other TWD series, but please don't feel obligated to read that one first. I mean, I obviously wouldn't be opposed to that but it's coolioz if you're only interested in this one. There's nothing you need to know that won't be explained here. On the flip side, if you're a former reader but you don't feel like this is your jam or whatever, that's also completely coolioz. **

**Another thing: this is canon divergent. A lot of the characters that die in canon will live in this story, although that doesn't mean everyone is completely safe. The timeline is also different, and will be expanded upon as the story goes.**

**Last thing: this chapter's title song is "Hello" by Martin Solveig and Dragonette. It's a real bop, check it out sometime. And, yeah. I guess let's jump into it.**

1\. Hello

To say she was exhausted was an understatement. She was running on about two hours of sleep and in severe need of more than the single bite of oatmeal she'd had at the start of the night. She was eternally grateful for the coffee Maggie brought in around midnight, although like the oatmeal, there hadn't been time enough for more than a few mouthfuls.

Now the dust was finally settling, Beth wrapped both shaking hands around the cup and took a sip. It was cold and bitter, but after four years of scrimping and sacrificing and going without, she was practically unaffected by it.

Still, she wouldn't refuse a bit of sugar.

"Hey." Denise elbowed her, hunched over her own coffee cup. Her hands were scrubbed clean, but Beth spotted a freckle of blood just above her elbow. "You still holding up?" That authoritative tone lingered, in expectation of the next disaster.

"By a thread," Beth replied.

Nothing but truth, but she felt a pinch of guilt saying it. Everyone in the infirmary looked dragged out of hell.

The survivors, at least.

She bit her cheek. Ten injured and five dead in this attack. The Wolves were relentless. It was only going to get worse with each hungry night, and now, with their medical supplies run so low…

"We need to make a run," she said. "That hospital we've been eyein'."

Denise frowned. "I thought you said it was overrun."

"It is. But I don't think we can risk waitin' for a safer option."

Not with Abraham condemned to a hospital bed, eight abdominal stitches and a concussion. Not with Aaron's broken arm, Carol's anemia. Not with Sasha six months pregnant, still looking like she intended to fight—and the way things were going, it might come to that.

"Rick and Michonne won't like it," Denise said.

"Rick and Michonne don't have to. They just have to let me go."

"I didn't say they'd let you go, either. And I'm not sure _I_ want you to leave. I need your help here."

Anxiety prickled her chest but she stifled it. "You'll be okay. Rosita's here. And Eugene's been learnin' a lot, too, right? He can help."

"Actually, Miss Greene, I am afraid I will not be present to lend my services. Least not if I can get Rick on my side concerning some issues I plan on resolving."

Beth turned to face Eugene, still slumped in the chair she'd left him in after patching the wound on his temple. Dried blood streaked his face, and his stitched-up hands, but his eyes were clear and focused. She had a feeling she knew what the issue was but she asked anyway.

"What do you plan on resolvin'?"

"Our present lack of ammunition. As it stands, we are staring down the barrel of our imminent forfeiture of Alexandria, if not our lives first."

Their lives would come first, Beth knew. No one here was willing to let this place go, even though the price kept skyrocketing.

"Do you know what we're down to?" Denise asked, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening. Beth wasn't sure why she bothered. After tonight, she didn't believe a single soul in the community was oblivious to the situation.

"Not the particulars, but going by present standards, if what I heard earlier from Sasha is correct, we have little less than two days' worth."

Fear twinged in her belly. Two days. Probably less. Of course, there was no clue as to when the Wolves might attack next. They'd been raiding the Safe Zone without apparent rhyme or reason for two weeks now. If they were to attack tomorrow…

"You really think you can make bullets?" she asked.

"Absolutely, but that isn't the issue. I've been squirrelin' away what I can for a while now, but I need the proper space for metal work. So I will be volunteering myself to look for it. Should be easy enough. I hear there's loads of rental space available these days." The humor in his tone couldn't quite break through the dread on his face.

Denise shook her head. "I don't know if we can spare that many people."

"Oh, I…I am proposing that I embark on this mission solo," Eugene said. His voice quavered. "I know what I am looking for. I know how to help. I can do this."

Beth wanted to believe him. Lately he'd been doing everything he could to prove himself, but he still had a long way to go to make up for the years spent hiding behind everyone else.

She didn't back him up, didn't say "I know you can".

She said, "Let's talk to Rick. See what he thinks."

~m~

What Rick thought was that it was out of the question, at least until Michonne brought back the official inventory on their ammunition. It was lower than Eugene's estimate. Beth was reluctant to propose her own objective, seeing as Rick looked about at his wit's end and fully prepared to murder someone, but none of them could deny they needed medicine as much as they needed ammo.

It was a long night of debate between her, Eugene and the council. Carol and Sasha agreed that ammunition was a priority, that they couldn't hope to heal their wounded if they were all dead. Tyreese and Morgan sided with Beth over Eugene, asserting that they could hold the Wolves off with what weapons they had. Daryl, of course, loyally defended both sides, and volunteered to travel with whoever needed him most.

But there was not a decision to be made that wouldn't be a terrible risk. In the end, it was decided that Glenn and Beth would make the run to the hospital, while Rick and Daryl would accompany Eugene, consolidating a food run with his search for work space.

When the verdict was drawn, Beth and Eugene shared a glance across the table, neither one completely happy with the outcome but unwilling to rock the boat. Beth assured herself it was better they'd agreed at all. She could abandon the alternate plan lurking in the back of her mind, which at its core was essentially just sneaking out in the dead of night and crossing her fingers for luck.

Daryl and Eugene waited for her on the roof that night. They were once again bickering, though half-heartedly. Beth forced a cheery smile and sat down, offering them a sip from her thermos.

Daryl wrinkled his nose at the contents. "Fuck is this?"

"_Tea, _Daryl," she answered. "It's this fancy new drink made from leaves. It's all the rage with the cool kids these days."

He snorted but drank a bit before handing it to Eugene.

"I would think you would be more partial to leaves. Didn't you used to eat them during your years wandering the woods?" Eugene inquired with a casual sip.

"I didn't _eat_ leaves, Porter. I wiped my ass with 'em."

His timing was perfect. Eugene's subsequent laugh had him choking mid-sip.

"_Fuck_, Daryl," he spluttered. "I'd appreciate you not trying to drown me. I am not sure if you are aware of this, but hot tea burns just a fraction on its way out of your nose."

"I ain't makin' you spew it out your fuckin' nose."

Beth giggled and high-fived Daryl. Though the two of them were Eugene's closest friends, it was difficult getting him to laugh. Each one was considered a victory.

They spent the next few minutes like this, passing the thermos around and giving each other shit and chattering like their whole community wasn't on the verge of ruin.

But eventually it had to come up.

Beth sighed. "I think Maggie's gonna make a fuss tomorrow."

There was silence for a moment. Above their heads, the moon was near full and bright as anything, but its light didn't comfort her like it usually did.

"Yeah," Daryl finally said. "Probably."

Ordinarily Maggie might've pushed to make the hospital run, but with her second pregnancy rounding out its third month she opted to play it safe.

"You don't think we're leavin' this place with too few people?" she asked quietly, hugging her knees to her chest.

"I don't think we're afforded the luxury of worrying about that anymore," Eugene replied. "Taking no affirmative action in our current condition will hemorrhage this community, that's as swift and certain as a bullet."

Beth nodded. He'd said as much at the meeting, and it wasn't that she didn't believe him, but she wondered if there were another path they were missing. Not like they had the time to find it, if there were.

"It is highly unlikely that we would be away from the Safe Zone as long as you and Glenn," Eugene continued. Not accounting for any roadblocks, the hospital was two days away. Best case scenario, they'd be gone four.

A lot could happen in four days.

_We each have jobs, _she reminded herself. _This is mine. _Glenn was a fantastic runner, but Beth knew exactly what they were looking for. In any case, he couldn't make the trip alone.

"Reckon Rick won't let us stay gone regardless of whether we find a workshop or not," Daryl added. "We'll come back, check on home, try again."

They stopped talking then. The thermos was empty and their moment of stolen comfort drained out. Try again. Try again. Seemed like that was all they ever managed these days. It was getting a little old.

Beth went inside first, bidding them goodnight. But she expected no sleep, and for once got exactly what she expected.

~m~

The sky couldn't seem to decide what kind of day it was going to be. Eugene tried not to take that as an omen. Gray clouds passed low overhead before dissipating to reveal blue, and then back again. Sultry air clung to him. He wished they could've taken a car, but they'd given one to Beth and Glenn and left the rest back home. Just in case.

They made good time to the closest town, or maybe it only felt that way because they'd started out before the sun was fully up. Rick and Daryl didn't offer much in the way of conversation and neither did Eugene. Tension and fatigue had them running on empty.

However, the town was small and rundown, and yielded nothing close to what Eugene would need. There wasn't even any food they could take back. He tried not to let this discourage him. He was tired and hungry and sore from the last altercation with the Wolves, and he was frustrated more than anything.

He could've made this run by himself. Rick and Daryl could've stayed behind to protect the group. He could've handled himself. He wasn't the most notable fighter in the group, but he was trying.

He wasn't the same as before. He refused to believe that he hadn't changed.

Daryl elbowed him, making him jump. "Hey. You good?"

Eugene nodded. "Yes. Positively peachy."

"Peachy. Right. Y'look like you just ate some bad peaches, more like."

Good lord, he could go for some peaches right now. Any food at all, really…

And maybe a change of subject.

"You know, I used to make the best peach cobbler…" he murmured sadly.

"Oh, shut the fuck up, don't you even fuckin' start," Daryl growled. "I'm hungry enough without that shit."

"And blueberry pancakes…"

"This is literally your last warnin'."

"And lemon wedges—_ow_. Don't pinch me."

"Next time'll be a punch."

"So can I mark you down as feeling punchy?"

Rick sighed, the sound of the long-suffering. "You two idiots plan on carrying on like this all day?"

"If he don't shut his jackass mouth," Daryl replied.

"You see the charming way he talks to me," Eugene said.

"Here." Rick stopped, pulling a candy bar from his backpack. He smiled slightly. "Don't tell Michonne I have this."

"You're a bold man, Rick," Eugene said as they divided it up.

"Yeah, I'm gambling on the idea she'd be sad if she kicked me out."

It wasn't much. The candy seemed to disappear into a void, providing no satisfaction. But it did lend them a short burst of energy, which they used to cut through the woods to a highway along which they'd never ventured much further than this.

They heard the snarling first, far enough in the distance they could be sure it wasn't intended for them.

And then the music.

~m~

Mason was still trying to convince herself to get out of bed when Renee stormed into the room, muttering what sounded primarily like four letter words to herself.

Mason sat up, raising an eyebrow. "Well, howdy there, sunshine. Pleasant morning?"

"That fucker Randy could drop dead and I wouldn't be sad. Like, at all. Not even one iota of sad."

"I don't think anyone would disagree with you there, Ren."

Randy was the Kingdom fuckhead. If it weren't for his skills as an engineer, Mason knew Ezekiel would've kicked him out long ago. More than once he refused to let Renee treat his ailments unless Dr. Ellis was present, like she couldn't be trusted to do her job on her own.

Mason wouldn't be sad if he dropped dead, either.

"Sorry, I don't mean to get so worked up," Renee said. "He just comes into the infirmary with that smug fucking attitude, and just… Yeah, sorry."

"Ren, you have every reason to be pissed, you don't have to apologize." Mason smiled slightly. "You wanna vent some more?"

"Nah, not right now, I just wanna decompress for a bit."

"Want me to beat him up for you?"

Renee smirked. "Maybe later." She laid down with her head on Mason's stomach.

"Hm… Wanna sit on my face?"

Renee laughed. "You know, for someone who swore off relationships, you're a terrible flirt."

"I can't decide if you mean I flirt a lot, or that I'm bad at flirting."

"Well, I don't know. You swing wildly both ways. And _no, _that was not a pun on your sexuality."

"But it works, so I'm counting it."

"Enough. With. The. Puns," Renee said, squeezing Mason's knee to punctuate each word.

"Ack—yeah, okay! I mean, I can't make any promises, but okay!"

~m~

She hummed on her way down the road, enjoying the brief bursts of sunlight between persistent clouds. She'd left Renee asleep in her bed and some coffee in the percolator for when she got up. The supplies were heavy on her back, but she enjoyed the weight. Everything physical was easy these days. Distracting.

She was methodical picking out her clearing, but once she did she wasted no time setting things up. The trench she dug first, a large ring ankle-deep and narrow. Then within that, two rings of wire strung from tree to tree. At the center of these concentric circles, she wired up her speakers to the solar battery, and then to her iPod.

Then she turned the music up as high as it would go.

It didn't take long for the walkers to find her. Just a few at first, scattered on all sides, but slowly their numbers thickened. Singing along with the music, Mason pulled the fire poker from its strap on her back and readied herself.

The first wave hit the trench and a good portion of them snapped their ankles. Their bodies collapsed like felled trees, hands outstretched and clawing at the dirt. Those that managed the trench, or used the fallen bodies as bridges, caught on the first wire. Then, with some struggling, the second. Anticipation kicked her pulse up.

When the first walkers trickled into the center with her, she sang them closer, dispatched them casually. Their numbers increased. Snarls drowned the music but she knew it by heart and felt it under her skin. The sun broke through the clouds to wink off her fire iron. For a moment, the world narrowed to music, and the dead, and the sweat and heat of the fight.

An arrow cut through the world.

She jumped back at the flash of yellow, and the walker in front of her collapsed. The arrow's artificial feathers gleamed neon in the sun.

"What the fuh…" was all she managed to say before three men rushed into view, throwing themselves at the walkers. One of them stopped to yank the arrow from the walker's eye, all while glaring at her.

"Wait!" she shouted above the din. "It's all good, I have this handled."

"Do ya?" the arrow man replied before raising his crossbow and taking down another walker. He stalked away without letting her respond. Mason grimaced.

So she paused her music and fell in pace with them, her world opening up and letting in a spill of anxiety. She didn't need these strangers dying for her.

With the stakes heightened, she snatched the shield off her back. It really was no more than a hubcap she'd customized with a leather strap and a makeshift grip, but it held up when the chips were down. She spun through the chaos, senses strained to play guardian to the men who thought they were rescuing her.

They handled themselves well, obviously no strangers to combat, though she wondered who could be these days. Though she remained exasperated, the herd did thin considerably with their help. Just when she thought this maybe hadn't been a complete cluster, her eyes fell on one of the men struggling to hold off a fierce pocket of walkers alone.

She leapt forward without thinking, diving straight in as they closed ranks around him. Her muscles moved reflexively, driving her shield up into a walker's jaw, running her iron through another's temple. The man moved alongside her, machete catching the light with each swing. He wasn't bad, she realized, just flustered.

When the last walker fell, they faced each other. He was tall, with bandages on his temple and…fuck, was that a mullet? She opened her mouth—to comment on it, she wasn't sure—but a snarling at their feet interrupted her. A walker lay there, its nearly-severed head hanging onto its neck with barely a prayer and a bit of skin, which the man stood on.

Mason looked back up to find the man staring at her, wide-eyed like she was part unicorn or something. She giggled.

"Move, dumbass."

"O-oh, um…"

He backed up, allowing her to deliver a truly stunning kick to the walker's head. It arced between two trees and bounced away.

"Field goal, motherfucker," Mason muttered.

"Thank you, ma'am," the man said. "That was an exceptional display of athleticism, if you don't mind my saying so. Of course, if you do mind, then feel free to consider the comment redacted."

Mason blinked, struck by the way he talked. Then she grinned.

"No redaction necessary. You don't think I do this shit for the fun of it, do you? I do it for the recognition."

The man smiled. She liked what it did to his eyes.

Before she could say anything else, perhaps ask his name or gently question his hairstyle, another voice cut her off.

"You! Hands up, now."

_Shit._

Reluctantly she obeyed, cataloguing the movements of the two men as they approached. The archer had his crossbow raised, and she didn't doubt he'd pull the trigger if she gave him a reason. The other held her locked in the sight of his revolver, looking less eager to kill her but somehow more intimidating. They were all battle-worn, she realized. Not from the walkers, but something else, something recent.

"Eugene," the archer barked, and Mullet Man jumped.

"Uh. Oh. Right."

Eugene stepped closer, hands fidgeting nervously. "Apologies, ma'am, but…"

"My weapons?" she said wryly.

"Yes. Quality assurance, nothing more."

"Yeah, I know the drill."

She handed him her iron and shield, while Revolver Man patted her down. She tried not to grimace, but it wasn't like she didn't understand. She wasn't letting her guard down, either.

Revolver Man took her gun and the knife strapped to her thigh. She bit back the urge to demand them back.

When the inventory was through, he circled around to face her. "What's your name?" His voice was low with suspicion.

She met his gaze fully. "Mason. You?"

"Rick." Introductions did not seem to make him more inclined to friendliness. "What are you doing out here?"

"Pest control," she answered.

"Alone?"

"I needed a little me time."

"What was the purpose of going to this extent?" Eugene asked, sounding more fascinated than anything.

Her tone softened just a bit answering him. "I don't…kill all of them. I need a few. It's easier getting them all in one spot. And…it's an old habit." The rest of the explanation shriveled in the back of her throat. They didn't need to know that particular bit.

"Why the fuck you need 'em?" Daryl growled.

"Some of them are gifts," she replied. "For people who deserve that kind of thing."

Rick exchanged a look with Daryl. Apparently this last resonated with them, though she couldn't tell for better or worse. Her eyes flicked to Eugene, to her weapons in his hands. She thought it probably wouldn't be hard to get them back if she had to, but she didn't particularly want to hurt him.

He watched her, too, his expression unreadable.

Then Rick spoke again.

"How many walkers have you killed?"

She was taken aback. Not just by the question itself, but…

_Walkers. They call them walkers, too. Just like…_

But she shut the rest of that thought down quick.

"Um, a lot," she said. "I lost track a long time ago."

Rick nodded, and then he hit her with another one.

"How many people have you killed?"

Everything inside her went still. She was no longer bemused. A wintry hollow yawned in her chest, something that had been there for a long time but that sometimes slept. It sometimes slept.

But apparently not today.

"A lot," she answered. That chill was there in her voice, too.

Rick stared her down. "Why?"

Lots of reasons. A myriad of images and scenarios that she fought every day to keep contained. Lots of reasons, but really only one reason.

Quietly, she said, "They were bad people."

Silence greeted her words. Maybe she'd said the wrong thing after all. Once again she looked at Eugene, and there was something new on his face but she still couldn't read it. No, she didn't want to hurt him. But she needed her weapons back.

Just as this thought crossed her mind, Rick held out her knives. Slowly, she took them.

"We have a community," he said. "We take people in. You can come back with us if you want."

More than anything else he'd said, this knocked her off balance.

"Oh. Well, I appreciate that, but…I have a community of my own to get back to."

All three of them straightened with surprise. She appraised each of them, the wounds and weariness.

She caught Eugene's eye and smiled just a little.

"If you want, you can come back with _me_," she said. "My community is open to trade and in a position to do so. You can come back, see who we are, and see…" She almost said, _How we can help_, but she didn't want to sound pitying. Besides, that wasn't her call. "We can see what we might have to offer each other."

"So that's it?" Daryl said. "You just lead us back to your people, no questions asked?"

"Anything I might've asked, you already answered by stopping to help me out," she replied. "And by offering to take me in."

Another glance between Rick and Daryl, the latter stubbornly unconvinced. It was Eugene that spoke up, his voice carefully neutral. As he did so, he handed back her iron and shield, and Mason felt better with their comforting weight returned.

"What is it your community has to trade? Food? Weapons?"

"Over half our food, we grow ourselves. Fruits, grain… Livestock, too."

"And weapons?" Daryl asked.

She blinked. "Do you need weapons?"

No one answered. It was answer enough.

"We have enough to defend ourselves," she said. "We try our best not to need them for anything but walkers."

Another long silence. Another glance like a conversation, this time between all three of them.

Finally, Rick looked up.

"How far is it?"

"Not far." Mason smiled. "Let me show you."

**A/N: There's a number of reasons I wanted to try writing this. The main reason is because there are things I desperately wanted to change. In my other series, I followed canon for about half the story before changing it, because despite its problems, part of me still really loved the show (up until season 7, anyway). But another part of me always wondered "what would things be like if Beth lived to see Alexandria?" "What if the Wolves were a bigger threat?" "What if they all had more time with each other between disasters?" And I just...couldn't let the idea die.**

**So anyway, if you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading. I truly hope you enjoyed, and that you'll join me for the next chapter. Until then, friends xoxo**


	2. Clearest Blue

**A/N: Hello, all! Today's chapter song is "Clearest Blue" by CHVRCHES. Quick, huge thanks to my readers and reviewers! I hope you enjoy this one. **

2\. Clearest Blue

Mason tried to keep her eyes focused ahead as she led the way down the road. Rick and Daryl shadowed her in a way that made her feel more like a prisoner than a guide, which might've made her bristle if they didn't look so worn. She tried to ask them a bit more about who they were, but Rick made it clear they wouldn't be revealing anything else to anyone but Ezekiel. At least Eugene was pleasant, asking occasional questions about her weapons and how she made her shield and how she learned to fight so well.

"Practice mostly, and a…friend who taught me some things," she said. "But also football and Krav Maga before the outbreak… What about you?"

"What about…what?"

"Well, how'd you learn how to fight?"

"Oh, I am afraid I only know enough to keep from becoming dinner. I…I am not a fighter in any real sense, ma'am."

He frowned, like this wasn't what he wanted to say, but he didn't correct himself.

Mason shook her head. "That's not what I saw back there."

He glanced at her doubtfully, but Daryl spoke up then with an impatient huff.

"Man, I thought you said this place was close."

"It is," Mason said, swallowing her irritation. Honestly they might've made better time, but she was trying to match the pace they were setting, which was…slow. The sun was fully out now, beating down oppressively. She was sweating a little but the men were drenched, still winded from the fight with the walkers and whatever else dogged them.

She bit her lip. They were probably starving…

"Um. Let's stop for a minute. I packed a lunch, but I didn't get a chance to eat it, so—"

Daryl threw her a look of pure vitriol. "We ain't stoppin' just cuz you ain't filled your damn stomach."

She fought so hard not to roll her eyes it gave her a headache. "No, there's enough for all of us. I'm happy to share." Actually she wasn't planning on having any of it, but she refused to give their pride any excuse.

Without waiting for a response, she heaved the supplies from her back with a sigh and dug into her bag. Daryl half-raised his crossbow, and Rick's hand twitched to his gun. Cautiously, she held out a pack of dried meat.

"Me and my jerky surrender," she muttered.

Rick took the pack and began splitting it up. Mason handed a jar of peaches to Eugene, who smirked and held it out to Daryl.

"Here. Peaches."

They sat and ate while Mason kept watch. Rick frowned when she refused her share, but fortunately didn't argue. Eugene caught her eye when they weren't looking and mouthed a "Thank you." She mouthed back, "Welcome."

Halfway through their meal, three walkers shambled out of the trees. The others tensed but Mason held out a hand.

"I got this."

Iron in hand, she descended the slope toward the dead. Their sights set on her and she began to sing, calm and clear, distracting them from the three on the road. Only once they were some distance away did she dispatch them. Clearly the men were no strangers to walkers, but with as drained as they seemed, she wasn't taking any chances.

They stared as she walked back to them; Eugene wore the same expression he had upon first seeing her. She blushed.

"What?" Then, before they could tell her what, she added, "I like to sing. Shut up."

For the first time, Rick cracked a smile. Just a small one, but she counted it as a win.

As they gathered up their things to continue on—Rick and Eugene offered to carry some of her things, but she refused—Eugene said, "Truth be told, I never thought I'd live to see the day I met the world's oddest siren."

"Huh?"

"You lure the dead to you. Odd siren."

Mason grinned. "Okay, I know you're teasing me but I actually love that."

~m~

"Alright, give me the scoop, Beth. What do you see?"

From where she sat perched on Glenn's shoulders, looking out over a twisted mangle of crashed cars, she saw a lot. Mostly that they were going to have to take a detour. She sighed and lowered the binoculars.

"About thirty on the road, but more comin' in from the east. Whatever happened here…"

"It's a siren call to them," Glenn finished with a sigh of his own. "Alright, let's look at the map."

Spread out on the hood of the car, with its scribbles and sections crossed out, it might have looked incomprehensible to a stranger. Every scout made their mark on the community maps when they needed to convey something crucial to future run groups. Beth could tell which marking belonged to who. Roads impatiently slashed through—Abraham. Thoughtful grid patterns—Sasha. Annotations in glittery purple ink—Michonne. And according to Michonne, they would have to double back five miles, then swing around another ten, to get back on track.

"Fuck," Beth whispered.

Glenn raised an eyebrow. "I'm telling your sister."

"Just cuz you're scared of her doesn't mean I am."

They climbed into the car and Beth watched out the window as Glenn drove in reverse to a place where they could turn around. It was silent for a few minutes.

"We're gonna handle this, you know," Glenn said. "I'm worried, too, but this group is gonna come through. We always do."

Beth narrowed her eyes. It was easier being doubtful around Glenn. He had a way of making her feel safe, the same way Shawn used to. Like they really could handle things.

But she remembered the farm. She remembered the prison, and Grady. A sword flash illuminating her dad's death. An explosion of red painting Merle's fate out on the sidewalk. How helpless she'd felt in all those moments.

How helpless she felt now.

_But you're not,_ she thought fiercely. Then promptly told her doubts to shut the hell up.

"Hey, you know what would make me feel better right now?" Glenn said cheerfully. "Some music."

"Please don't ask me to sing."

"Well, if you don't, then I will."

"Oh, lord, no."

"It's one or the other, Greene."

She rolled her eyes, although deep down she really didn't mind all that much. What she did mind was that the first song that popped into her head reminded her vividly of a road back in Georgia, of a cold night spent by candlelight, the smell of elderberries.

And her.

_Don't think about it. She's long gone._

So she didn't think about it, and she sang the song like she wasn't thinking about it and never would again.

"I…didn't know you were into that kind of music," Glenn said when she was finished.

Beth stared out the window, lied to herself and said, "I didn't know I was, either."

~m~

The walls barring the community from sight were scavenged and hodgepodge, but all sturdily constructed. Mason hailed the two lookouts posted atop either side of the metal gate, which creaked open after a moment. Eugene was the first to follow Mason through, though Rick and Daryl were quick to flank him.

Eugene couldn't tell if he was irritated they didn't trust her, or irritated they didn't trust him to handle himself. Either reason he knew he couldn't rationally blame them for.

A vibrantly-tattooed man and a woman adorned in grunge paraphernalia greeted them, weapons in hand but held casually. They seemed about Mason's age, mid-twenties. Both of them smiled—the man with polite friendliness, the woman like she knew she could kick all their asses.

"So you're dragging in more strays now, huh?" the woman said.

Daryl bristled. Mason spoke up loudly, shooting him a warning glance.

"Actually, they're not staying. They just wanted a chance to talk to Ezekiel."

"About what?"

"Ain't nobody's business but ours," Daryl snarled. Eugene stifled a sigh.

Rick stepped forward. "We're here to talk community relations. Nothing more."

"You're from another community?" the man asked, with what seemed to Eugene no more than genuine curiosity. But Rick and Daryl simmered with distrust, and the question was met with silence.

Mason glanced around awkwardly. "Uh…"

"Macie!"

A tiny, squealing form came sprinting from around a nearby building. The man and woman tensed but Mason grinned and held her arms out for the child to barrel into.

"Baby girl!" she exclaimed, spinning them both around. "What is up, sunshine?"

"Nothing."

"_Nothing_? I don't believe it."

"Well, I was watching Spongebob."

Mason gasped. "You were watching Spongebob without me? That hurts, kid."

"Yeah, and I had a cookie, too!"

"Oh my god. Wow. I don't think we can be friends anymore."

The girl just giggled and wrapped Mason in a tight hug. Her eyes peeped curiously over Mason's shoulder.

"You made friends!"

"Yeah, no need to sound so surprised, kid."

Mason turned to face them, but now it was her who looked cautious. "Rick, Daryl, Eugene, this is Dray and Charlie." She nodded to the man and woman in turn, whose stances had changed from casual to protective. "And this is Charlie's niece, Ava."

But Rick and Daryl's hostility had deflated, their eyes softer with understanding.

After a beat, Mason set Ava down. "You wanna do me a favor and go let Jerry know there's some friends here to meet Ezekiel?"

"Okay!"

When Ava was gone, Mason motioned for Charlie and Dray to shut the gates, which they did before flanking her.

"They'll be returned to you when you leave, but before I can let you speak to the King, I'll need your weapons," she said, in a tone that broached no argument.

The…King?

Eugene exchanged a glance with Daryl, but Rick kept a poker face and nodded in agreement.

Charlie and Dray set to work patting down Rick and Daryl; Mason chose Eugene. Her hands were firm but gentle. He tried to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks.

"Sorry," she mouthed to him.

"Quality assurance," he mouthed back.

Once they were properly de-weaponized, Mason led them deeper into the community, leaving Charlie and Dray behind to return to their posts. Old brick buildings, fruit trees, people going about business that looked less like survival and more like…_living_.

Alexandria had experienced that a few times, but the moments they felt safe enough to call peaceful were always quickly interrupted by a slideshow of hardships. First the quarry herd, then a pox outbreak that winter which seamlessly blended into a spring in which their crops suffered from root rot.

This was the kind of place he used to picture, back when he thought he would end up in D.C. But he'd given up on that roughly around the same time he gave up his lie.

This place was a dream.

A woman was waiting for them outside the door of a long building. She ducked her head shyly and said, "Ezekiel will see you inside, Mason."

"Thanks, Ash," Mason said. "Wait here for a sec, guys, okay?"

Rick frowned but didn't argue, and Mason disappeared through the door. The other woman didn't engage in conversation, simply twirled the pink and green ends of her hair around one finger while they waited. She was…counting under her breath.

When she got to sixty, she nodded to them. "I'll show you to the receiving room now."

"What about Mason?" Eugene asked.

"She's waiting for you, too."

The whole thing was strange, but it didn't feel as though anything sinister was going on. Silently she led the way inside and down several dark hallways, lit by nothing but a few scattered windows. When they came to a set of double doors, she stopped.

"The King awaits."

Rick didn't hesitate striding through. Daryl stuck close to Eugene as they followed. The doors shut behind them, leaving them in a small auditorium. The stage was lit up, illuminating four figures.

One of them was a tiger.

The three of them stopped dead. The beast lounged next to a man seated on what looked like a no-shit throne, but though its posture was relaxed, its eyes watched their every move.

"My friends, I understand your consternation, but there is no need of it," the man said. "Shiva's intentions run pure so long as yours do."

"Plus, she ate just a little bit ago, so she's good," Mason—the figure on Shiva's left—said.

Eugene stared at her, his expression likely comical, and realized that she looked different. She'd changed out her blood-covered shorts and tank top for a black cloak and tunic. Somehow it didn't look completely ridiculous on her. Somehow she made it look like something a reaper would wear.

The man threw her a glance that was half-amused, half-exasperated. "What my irreverent Lady here means is that you are safe in this place. No harm shall befall any of you." He spread his arms, and the chain he held jingled—a pseudo leash for Shiva, Eugene realized.

"I am King Ezekiel. Welcome to the Kingdom."

There was a long pause. Then…

"I'm…Rick Grimes." It sounded lackluster after Ezekiel's grandiosity. "This is Daryl and Eugene."

"A pleasure to make your acquaintances. This is my steward, Jerry." Ezekiel indicated the man on his right, who wielded a massive battle axe and a cheery smile.

"'Sup, my dudes!" Jerry said.

"And, of course, you have already met my Champion, Mason."

Champion?

Eugene side-eyed her and mouthed, "What the fuck?"

She winked.

"Yes," Rick said. "She told us there might be an opportunity for trade between our communities."

"Indeed, Rick, we are amenable to that. However it is customary that we know more about our potential barterers beyond mere names. From which community do you hail?"

"Alexandria. About ten miles north of your Kingdom."

"And how many under your watch, or am I wrong in assuming you are their leader?"

"You're not wrong," Rick said in a low voice. "Sixty of us. Around that."

Less than that after the Wolves, but neither Eugene nor Daryl said as much.

Surprise dimmed the warmth in Ezekiel's eyes. "And what is it that you might ask of us? What is it that you might give to replenish this well of fortune?"

"You're well stocked on food," Rick answered. His gaze was sharp, unwavering. "We can offer work in exchange for that. You need help tending to your gardens or livestock, any problems with walkers. Or people. We can handle that, in the future."

"Am I hearing that, if called upon to fulfill this deal today, you could not?"

Rick's jaw worked, like he was chewing over his words. When the silence continued, Ezekiel said, "Is there nothing else you could offer today, as assurance that I can in fact trust you to deliver?"

Eugene drummed his fingers along the straps of his rucksack. An idea occurred to him that he was certain Rick would want him to keep to himself. But it was the eleventh hour. Playing it safe here could very well result in losing the game overall.

Mason had disregarded the bullet casings inside his pack during her pat down, believing that they no longer served a purpose. But minus a workshop, he had everything he needed…

He stepped forward, drawing Ezekiel's attention.

"I can make bullets. I am keenly aware of the formula needed to do so and all I need is the proper digs to begin the manufacturing process."

He felt Rick and Daryl's anger like a wave at his back, but he stood steady. This was his worth. This was what he could offer.

Almost reflexively, he glanced at Mason.

She shook her head in disbelief and mouthed, "What the fuck?"

He winked.

**A/N: I know this chapter was pretty short. Next one will likely be longer, and will definitely have more action, so hopefully you join me for that. Also, my schedule has been a little helter-skelter lately, but it should be evening out soon, and it's my goal to release chapters with some sort of consistency lol Until then, much love! **


	3. Dive

**A/N: Hello, all! So I guess I'm going to try updating on Thursdays? I've always wanted to be one of those writers that sticks to a schedule, but it has never been my particular strong suit, so...we'll see lol. Today's chapter song is Dive by Bassnectar ft. RD, and it's a real banger, let me tell you. Thank you so much to my readers and reviewers, I really appreciate you guys. Hope you enjoy!**

3\. Dive

"A most impressive claim, Eugene," Ezkiel said. "You will of course understand if I am a bit skeptical. What say you prove this before our wondering eyes? Find the suitable foundry for this alchemical ritual, and we shall witness it firsthand."

"I'll help you look," Mason offered. "We can go right now, if you guys are up for it."

"We need to be home before nightfall," Rick said, and his words were charged with something that made Eugene's spine stiffen. For a second, he was back on an endless road in the sweltering heat, hungry and dehydrated and more alone than he'd ever felt among so many before. Terminus behind them, but not behind them. No D.C., no Richmond, no destination they could trust. Running out of options faster than they could hope for them.

Eugene couldn't forget it, never would. Not a single moment of what that felt like. The fearful certainty of knowing he was going to die—

_(and you deserved to)_

—and the strongest people he knew could not save him. Could not save themselves.

Rick sounded now the way he had then. Not fully, but…the ghost was there. Eugene cringed without meaning to, as if he could make himself smaller, and the instinct disgusted him.

"Rick," he spoke through the fear. "I—I can stay here while you—"

"_Hell _no," Daryl snarled. His gaze seared Eugene. "We ain't leavin' you behind at this fuckin' freak show."

Eugene almost found himself wishing for the days when Daryl hated him. Back then, he would've left Eugene behind and not even thought twice about it.

"I wouldn't let anything happen to him," Mason murmured with a note of…what? Hurt? Resentment?

"No," Rick said, glaring first at Eugene and then Mason.

Eugene ached to push back, plead his case.

But he wasn't a fighter.

"If there's no deal here today, then we need to be heading back," Rick continued.

Concern broke Ezekiel's firm expression. "It is neither our wish nor our intent to drive you out. You are welcome in this realm, and truly we wish for nothing but peaceful alliance and fair barter with yours."

"You want proof he can make bullets, and we're not leaving him here."

Ezekiel dipped his head. "Please consider returning when you are able."

Rick nodded silently, lip curled with growing hostility. Clearly the meeting was over. Eugene cast a last look at Mason, and the way she stared at him ran his stomach through with desperation.

But Rick grunted, a wordless command to follow, and Daryl guided Eugene away from Mason and toward the door.

~m~

"I am sorry, my Lady."

"There…there has to be some other deal we can make. We can invest in _them_. We've done it in the past."

"Yes, with smaller groups. But sixty charges to provide vittles for, and collection day looming on the morrow? As summer establishes itself, we may well be in a position to make investments of our own, but it has been a grueling winter. A grueling year." Ezekiel laid a hand on Mason's shoulder. "Take heart, my Lady. Perhaps they will return."

"Plus, it's not like we don't know where they are," Jerry added. "We just…"

He trailed off, but Mason silently finished for him.

_We just won't write them off this time._

"I know you didn't want them to go." Absently she scratched Shiva behind the ears and hopped off stage. "You know, I haven't seen the other half of that quarry herd. That means those people fought them off."

She didn't say anything else, but Ezekiel would know what she really meant. She strode down the center aisle to the door the Alexandrians had disappeared through.

"Do not think I don't know what you are planning, my Champion."

She stopped, cursing inwardly.

"You really believe after everything, standing side by side with you through countless crucibles, that I cannot read the truth in your eyes?"

"Maybe I should start wearing sunglasses."

He laughed. "There's that shining wit I keep you around for. But you know I cannot concede to this angle you wish to play."

"Look, Ezekiel, I was just—"

"Out loud."

Slowly, Mason grinned. She continued on her way down the aisle.

"Oh, and it certainly would be a shame if I were to return home to sparser cabinets this eve."

"Ooh, ooh! Me, too!" Jerry added.

"Yeah, a damn shame." Mason waved over her shoulder. "You guys are the best and I owe you!"

~m~

Loaded down like a pack mule, Mason jogged up the road, relishing the burn in her legs. Sweat rolled down her face, stinging her eyes. She blinked impatiently, scanning her surroundings. She hadn't come across the Alexandrians yet, but they only had about an hour head start, and with as slowly as they were moving before they couldn't have made it terribly far.

In the end, she'd gathered food from Ezkiel's and Jerry's stores, and the house she shared with her Misfits. It would likely be scrimpy eating for the three of them for a while, but she planned on taking the brunt of that anyway. They would keep it from the rest of the Kingdom, just as they kept collection day from them. Only the people involved in this donation would even notice she wasn't eating. And hopefully this would do something to convince the Alexandrians that they weren't heartless bastards, they just…had a complicated rulebook to play by.

A shout caught her attention. She stopped dead, senses trained on the woods to her right. Muffled voices. Another shout. Hastily she followed the sound, shrugging out from the supplies on her back and hiding them in the ditch.

Several tree-lengths in, she spotted a man. He was scraggly, facing away from her, covered in old blood and holding a length of heavy chain. Mason kept low as she crept forward, lifting the hood of her cloak over her head and hoping to blend in with the deepening shadows of late afternoon.

There were others like the scraggly stranger, men and women dappled with all manner of grime. Of the ones whose faces she could see, they all bore W's on their foreheads, some painted on, some etched or burned. Mason couldn't see all their weapons, though it didn't appear they had any guns.

But they stood in a tight circle around Rick, Daryl and Eugene, and that was enough to light a panic in her heart.

"Little sheep," one of the W men cooed, twirling his knife in Eugene's direction. Eugene trembled but stood his ground, machete in hand. "Where are you three traveling from? Shouldn't you be home, guarding the flock?"

"Or maybe it's too late," a woman with yellow teeth giggled. "Maybe we ate them." She lunged, swiping her knife at Daryl. The arrow entered her skull before she finished laughing, and her body thudded to the ground.

The man closest to Mason shook his head. "That's not very friendly, archer." He let out a low whistle, and five more figures emerged from the deep woods. Eleven in all.

Rick had his revolver raised, but he wasn't going to be able to fire quick enough before they were on him. Same with Daryl. And Eugene…

As she watched, one of the W men darted toward Eugene, slashing his cheek with a knife before jumping back.

Hot coals flared to life in her stomach. Teeth clenched in a snarl, Mason pulled her knife from her belt, took aim and threw.

It sank deep in the bastard's eye and sent him staggering back, mouth gaping in shock. The rest of the W pack froze, predators realizing they might be prey, and Mason leapt from her hiding place, iron in hand.

The closest man had no time to react as she ran him through with the poker, yanking the chain from his grip. She swung the chain around another man's throat, crossed the ends and pulled tight; his yelp strangled into silence.

By then, the W pack had recovered. Two of them rushed Mason, a woman with an axe and a man with a length of jagged pipe. Mason ducked, thrusting the choking man forward just in time for the axe to come down. His body slumped in her grip, his blood warming her hands, but she didn't release the chain. Keeping low, she swung his body around into the woman, knocking her legs from under her.

Gunshots sounded. Mason ignored them, too busy tugging her iron from the tangled chain and trying to grab the axe with her free hand.

Something cracked against her knee and she crumpled with a cry. Before she could recover, the weight of a body bore down on her, and her breathing cut off as the pipe pressed on her throat.

She had only seconds until she blacked out. Her poker lay just a foot away, but she didn't waste time struggling for it. Her hands fumbled for her attacker's, pinching down hard on pressure points between his fingers. His grip on the pipe loosened. She sucked in a lungful of air and slammed the heel of her palm into the man's nose. He reeled back, blinded by his watering eyes. She snatched the pipe and drove the sharp end through his temple.

Blearily she sat up, one hand on her throat, the other reaching for her iron. The axe woman beat her there, kicking it deeper into the undergrowth.

"Oh, fuck you," Mason huffed and raised her shield in time to parry the axe. Discipline brought her to her feet, though her injured knee trembled a bit. She drove her shield into the woman's stomach and she doubled over, retching.

"Head's up," Mason rasped and slammed her shield into the woman's skull. "Ha. Get it?"

With the Alexandrians fighting, too, the W pack scrambled to regain their upper hand. Three more gunshots. One man fell by Rick's revolver, the others ducked out of the way. Mason gave chase, but she didn't make it far before someone rammed her into a tree. She barely had time to get her hands up to prevent smashing her nose.

Using all her weight, she shoved back from the tree and into her attacker, toppling them both to the ground. Something sharp pierced her arm, but adrenaline burned the pain away. Arms grappled to hold her down. She swung her elbow back once, twice, a third time, until they let go.

The moment she rolled to the side, a machete came down on her attacker's head. Eugene loomed above, grim and shaken and covered in blood. She took his hand when he offered it and he pulled her to her feet.

"Good looking out, alchemist," she said, positioning herself so they were back to back. But it seemed the fight was over, Rick and Daryl falling back to flank her and Eugene, no more enemies in sight. Living, anyway. She counted ten bodies.

"One of them got away?" she growled.

Rick nodded. "Everyone alright?"

Figuring he wasn't talking to her, Mason let Daryl and Eugene answer in the affirmative. But once certain no one else was going to pop out of the trees, Rick turned to her.

"Are you alright?"

There was genuine concern in his voice. Inexplicably, she felt embarrassed.

"I'm okay."

"You're bleeding," Eugene said, and for the first time she realized that she was. A gash on the back of her arm.

"It…it looks worse than it is," she replied, unconsciously shifting that arm behind her back.

"Might need stitches," Daryl grunted.

"Yeah, well…if it does, it does."

"You could've died for us." Rick eyed her in that way she was beginning to notice about him, that way that could make you stop and sit up, that you couldn't look away from. "Thank you."

"Oh, um. Don't mention it, dude." Then, to solidify her reign as most awkward motherfucker on the planet, she clicked her tongue and gave him the old finger guns.

_Good fucking lord, could you have _less _dignity?_

Eugene huffed what sounded suspiciously like a laugh. She glared, but he just blinked innocently.

"Why'd you follow us anyway?" There was no hostility in Daryl's voice now.

"Well, I…I needed to make sure you guys got home safe. And also, I have some stuff for you."

After retrieving her iron, she led them back to where she'd ditched the supplies, taking down a few walkers drawn by the sound of the fight.

"I'm sorry. I know it's not nearly what you need for sixty people," she said as they looked through the food. "We just couldn't let you leave with nothing."

"Thank you," Rick said again.

Mason tapped her toe, wondering if her next question was a good idea.

"Are you…having problems with those people?"

The Alexandrians eyed her solemnly. She took that as a yes.

"Who are they?"

"Call themselves Wolves," Daryl answered. "Don't know much about 'em otherwise."

"Do you know how many there are?"

"A lot."

"Over the past few weeks, they have been instituting intermittent raids on our camp," Eugene said. "As a result, we are dangerously low on food, ammo and medical supplies."

Neither Rick nor Daryl protested this information. Apparently risking her life for them had earned the privilege of it.

Well, she may as well reward their honesty with a bit of her own.

"So. Last summer. You guys took out half that quarry herd?"

It was almost funny, the way they looked at her then. She could almost hear a clichéd record scratch in the background.

"You know about that?" Rick asked flatly.

Mason nodded, wishing she could get her leg to stop bouncing. "We…led the other half away. That day. We didn't know anyone was living behind your walls until then, and after…"

_After _concerned itself with a lot of blood and bent knees, and she knew Ezekiel would not want her sharing it.

"You didn't think to make a house call?" Daryl said. There was an edge to his voice, like he couldn't decide whether he should be pissed or grateful.

Mason looked at Rick when she answered, hoping that as the leader, he would understand.

"We've had problems with people in the past. Some shit that almost… I mean, we wouldn't be here if things had gone another way with those people. And so we tried to help with that herd because we couldn't just stand by and let it happen, but it was easier risking our safety with the walkers than with you. The living are worse than the dead these days. We're in a better place now, and we try to help who we can, but…we're careful."

The words felt flimsy in her mouth now that she was looking them in the face. She wished she could share everything with them, every drop of the story, but secrets were a part of her daily life now. It was almost easier to talk in omissions than it was to speak the truth.

She expected anger, and she caught a spark of it in Daryl's eyes, but mostly there was understanding. Grave-dark and tired, but it was there in all of them. Not for the first time, she wondered what these people had been through. Whatever it was, it explained their relentless mistrust.

Finally, Rick said, "Yeah. We know about people like that."

She was relieved to hear the words, but it still wasn't enough. "I want to help you. Find a place where Eugene can make bullets, get you some food, and then…I'm gonna help you with these Wolves."

Ezekiel wouldn't be happy she was making these promises, but she also knew he wouldn't be happy to learn their neighbors were suffering. His role as protector of the Kingdom was in constant conflict with the urge to do good outside of it. Not to mention, the Wolves might pose a potential threat to the Kingdom as well. Better to solve a problem while there were allies they could call upon.

Eugene nodded. "I want it to be known that I am fully and emphatically for that plan. Mason and I can continue the search for a suitable workshop while you two lend your assistance back home."

Anxiety strained between the three of them, and it was only then that Mason remembered what that Wolf had said.

_Or maybe it's too late. Maybe we ate them._

"We can talk while we walk," she suggested, and the Alexandrians seemed more than happy to do so.

This time, they were insistent on helping carry the supplies, just as Eugene was insistent on tending to her arm. He cleaned away the excess blood and wrapped it tight with a length of cloth, which made her feel like fidgeting again. At least he claimed she probably wouldn't need those stitches.

They made better time than they had on their way to the Kingdom, but Mason sensed the effort it took to push themselves. She wasn't moving at her quickest, either, limping while simultaneously trying to hide that limp from the others.

"You couldn't'a brought a car?" Daryl grumbled, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

Mason laughed apologetically. "Uh, yeah, we try to reserve our transportation for emergencies." Only partly true. Tomorrow was collection day, which meant they needed the trucks for their exports. And…the rest of the cars and horses, anything they could use to escape, needed to remain behind on such days. Just in case.

"Here," she said, handing him a jug of water. He hesitated before taking it—not like he thought she might've poisoned it, but like he was offended by the idea of staying hydrated. But they passed it around regardless as the sun set.

They kept conversation to a minimum, cautious of whatever dead or living might be lurking about, but by the time they reached the turnoff for Alexandria, they'd established the finer details of their agreement. Eugene would return to the Kingdom that night, and send word as soon as he found what he was looking for. In exchange, Mason would send a few knights to the Safe Zone to stand guard against the Wolves.

"Thank you for this," Rick said when they reached the gate. He had visibly relaxed at the sight of the guards on watch atop the towers; it seemed the Wolves had only been fucking with them.

"Thank you for trusting me," Mason replied.

Daryl, however, pulled her aside as Rick and Eugene began carrying the supplies inside.

"You really wanna help us?" It was only sort of a question.

Mason nodded. "I do."

He appraised her, chewing his lip. "Alright. I believe you. But you gotta know somethin'." He edged closer, pointing a finger at her. "You let anythin' happen to him, anythin' at all? I will bury you six feet deep."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're awful protective of him…"

Something flashed in Daryl's eyes. "He's my friend."

"Yeah, I gathered that. Look." She placed her fist over her heart. "On my honor, I promise I will do everything in my power to keep him safe. But you know, maybe you should have more faith in him. He wasn't helpless back there."

They might've said more, but Rick and Eugene were returning. She smiled.

"All set?"

"Yes, ma'am," Eugene replied. Despite the situation, he seemed happy, like a kid invited to their first sleepover.

Several goodbyes and warnings to be careful later, it was just Mason and Eugene, together on that dark road.

There was silence between them for a while, and Mason struggled to define it. Unexpectedly comfortable. Usually she hated being alone with people she just met. But she liked this.

Still, her pulse couldn't decide on a suitable rhythm. Probably just the excitement of the day, she reckoned.

Of course, as soon as she considered her chaotic heartbeat and how noncommittal she was being, the anxiety crept in. The silence was comfortable for her, but what if it wasn't for him? Which…was a dumbass thing to worry about. It was the apocalypse. They were literally on a journey to find a place to make bullets to subsequently kill people with. She shouldn't care. She couldn't explain why she did.

She really wanted Eugene to like her.

_Maybe stop being a giant melting pot of awkward then._

"So…" she said. "Nice…hair."

_Yeah, that's the way._

He blinked at her. She fidgeted with the strap of her iron.

"I—I'm not teasing you, I really mean that. I think you're about the only person who could pull that look off."

"I like your hair, too, Miss Mason."

Unconsciously she brushed a hand over the shaved half. "Thanks."

"Perhaps down the road we could switch."

Mason laughed. "Down this road, you mean?"

"Yes. Once we have reached the end of this road, I will shear myself like a lopsided sheep, and you will concentrate real hard and grow out your own neck warmer through unalloyed force of will."

"It wouldn't be as majestic, though."

"No, but I am positive you will give it a good and honest attempt."

He smiled. Instantly, her dumbass anxiety dissolved.

And it was just them, stars above and darkness everywhere else, pavement still warm beneath their soles, sometimes talking and sometimes not.

All of it was comfortable, she decided.

**A/N: So I know I've been dropping little tidbits here and there about past events and how they differ from canon, but next chapter I plan on expanding on (some of) those things in greater detail. Actually, I had planned on writing them all out as an individual story, but I wanted to start where I started in this one, so...it would've ended up a prequel. Y'all let me know your thoughts, if you want me to write flashbacks within a chapter, if you want me to devote entire chapters to them, etc. Next chapter we'll see what Beth and Glenn are up to, and I will also be introducing the last POV character. So until then, much love! xoxo**


	4. Lose Control

**A/N: Hello, all! Sorry for not updating last week, it has just been...a Weird Fucking Time lately, and trying to find an opportunity to write was a bit of a struggle. Hopefully I'll be able to write more frequently now! Today's chapter song is "Lose Control" by Glass Animals and Joey Bada$$. The chapter itself is Beth-centric, and there's quite a bit of action in it, with one last POV character introduced at the end. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, it really means a lot. I hope y'all enjoy!  
**

4\. Lose Control

"_He left again, didn't he?"_

_Daryl grunted, jerking his knife through the hide of the deer. He caught it so close to the fence he didn't even have to field dress it, simply carried it inside, deflecting various compliments by asserting the "damn thing had a death wish anyway". _

_Beth nodded. Merle lived in the woods outside the prison, but it was easy to tell when he disappeared on one of his tracking missions. On each occasion, Daryl became unfailingly edgy. _

_Today was different, though._

"_Michonne didn't go with 'im," Daryl said. "Didn't even know he'd gone."_

_The camaraderie between Merle and Michonne certainly could not be described as friendship, but their objective united them anyway. The Governor was out there somewhere. The idea of him continuing to breathe was intolerable to them. Daryl used to join them on these missions, but something changed a few months after the Woodbury survivors merged with their group. Beth was glad for that change. They needed Daryl at the prison, or putting his skills to work recruiting others, not sniffing out dead ends. _

_She understood, though. If it were Maggie out there alone, she'd drive herself crazy with worry. _

"_He can handle himself, you know," she said. "He's like you that way." _

"_Mmm." _

"_You're not thinkin' of goin' out after him?" _

_Daryl took his time answering. "Nah. He's gonna do what he's gonna do. No sense chasin' him all over the woods." _

"_I could go."_

_The words were out before she could stop them, and the way Daryl looked at her made her wish she could cram them back in._

"_What?"_

_Beth kept her chin high. "I can go. Just me. That way you wouldn't have to send out…" _Anyone crucial, _she almost said. "I mean, I've been goin' out patrollin' with Tyreese and Maggie. I can handle myself."_

"_Patrollin' ain't the same as bein' out there. 'Sides, you can't track."_

_Something sparked in her chest, something that had been growing there for a while now. _

"_I was out there, same as you, after the farm. I can defend myself, I know how to survive."_

"_Y'ain't goin', girl."_

"_You don't decide that. And don't call me girl, you asshole. You know my damn name." _

_But Daryl had already turned back to the deer. "Rick could decide that. Or Maggie. Your dad."_

"…_Are you serious? You're gonna tattle on me?"_

"_If I gotta."_

_He seemed utterly unconcerned now, sure that this threat would keep her from doing anything stupid._

_She was tired of people keeping her from doing anything stupid._

_She didn't let the plan manifest in her voice. She sighed and said, "Look, I know that was a stupid suggestion. I just…want to help." _

"_You do enough here. Don't worry about it." _

_On the outside apparently defeated, and on the inside seething, she went back to her cell. To pack her bag, to prep her weapons. To do more._

~m~

"So, I've been readin' that little guidebook you gave me, and I think I finally came up with my perfect Pokemon team."

Glenn chuckled. "Lay it on me, Greene."

They kept their voices low. The first three floors of the hospital were overrun, every available space crawling with walkers. The fourth floor, however, was strangely vacant, or at least the hallways were. Most of the doors were closed, which Beth supposed was good since behind every one she could hear the telltale growling of the dead. But there was something about this wing that left her unsettled, the way she felt jarred awake by a nightmare in a quiet room. Like there was a piece to the darkness she was missing, a piece that glided closer in the corner of her eye but that she could never truly see looking dead on…

"As my starter," she said, shaking the feeling away, "Squirtle."

"Really? I thought for sure you'd pick Bulbasaur."

"I actually was goin' to, but…I really like Blastoise."

Soft, listless thumping from a nearby room. A body in the dark, separated only by a wall, perhaps knowing where she was in spite of that wall, perhaps _following_ her…

"And who else?" Glenn prompted.

"Um. Vulpix, Butterfree, Jigglypuff…"

"Stop."

"What's wrong with Jigglypuff—"

Glenn put a hand on her arm. "No, I mean…"

He pointed ahead, to a room on the right. The door was ajar, revealing nothing but darkness beyond. Beth stiffened.

_Someone's in here with us._

The thought occurred out of nowhere, insistent enough that she glanced behind her. Empty halls and the abstracted noise of walkers. Yet when she turned back to Glenn and saw the tension on his face, she couldn't dismiss it.

He drew his gun. "Stay close."

Beth covered him as they crept into the room, tracing its contents with their flashlights, listening for movement. An array of desks and shelves had been shoved inside a long time ago. Dust veiled everything, but underneath, Beth spotted glass vials and pill bottles and gauze and syringes.

She hesitated. Glenn did, too. Everything they needed, right in front of them. They couldn't leave without those things. Who knew if they could find it anywhere else? But…

_Someone's in here with us._

The feeling climbed her spine, but when nothing happened, and then even more nothing happened, they edged further into the room. Beth scoped the right side and Glenn the left, taking twice as long as they normally might have to clear it.

There was no one else in the room, not even a walker. But the feeling of being watched lingered…

No, not of being watched. Not that.

It was just…a presence. An approach.

She couldn't shake it as she reached into the first shelf, carefully extricating a bottle of Percocet. She half-expected a hand to shoot out of the darkness and grab her wrist.

_Stop being so paranoid._

She began scooping everything into her pack. Amoxicillin, doxycycline… They were going to return home with an incredible haul. Once her bag was full, she hurried over to Glenn.

"'Kay, I've got everythin' I can carry. You good?"

"Yeah, just—" He grunted, struggling to open one last drawer. It squealed in protest. Beth scanned the room, worried the sound might alert…something.

A glint caught her eye. Something hanging from the ceiling a few feet away. She couldn't tell what it was, whether it was large or small, but something about its angle opened a pit in her stomach.

The drawer pulled free with a screech. The glint on the ceiling swung down like a pendulum.

Beth lunged, shoving Glenn to the floor. Pain ripped through her shoulder, just inches from her neck, as what looked like a metal claw cut through the space where Glenn would've been. In the same moment, the door slammed shut, jarring them both to their feet.

"Shit. _Shit_, are you alright?" Glenn said.

"I'm fine." Blood trickled down her back, but they'd have to examine the damage later. "We have to leave."

Glenn retrieved his bag from where it landed in the fall, and Beth cut the cord to which the metal claw was attached. She wasn't sure why, only that her heart was pounding and they had guns but very few bullets and _someone was in there with them._

She gripped the claw in white knuckles as they raced for the door, fully expecting someone to be there waiting to ambush them. So there was a moment of wild relief when they made it through.

The sound greeted them first, much louder than before, and then the smell. Glenn pulled to a halt so suddenly that Beth barreled into him, nearly cutting him with the claw.

Where before the hallway was empty, it teemed now with walkers. Some kind of chain reaction had been triggered and all the doors flung open, letting out rivulets of the dead like a cracking dam. They certainly weren't alone anymore.

It was a trap.

~m~

_Sneaking out took more patience but less spy music than Beth anticipated. It was mostly a matter of waiting—waiting till she knew the tombs were empty, waiting for the guard shift, waiting till she could dart into the trees unseen—and it was all a bit anticlimactic if she were being honest._

_Being outside the prison, however…_

_Memories rushed back with every sound, amplified because she was alone, and because she couldn't stop thinking about Maggie and her dad when they discovered she was gone, and holy _shit_ this was a stupid idea. What the hell was she thinking? She knew how dangerous it was; a whole year on the road had to have taught her something. But here she was in spite of those lessons, clumsily tracking what she was only marginally sure was Merle through a forest that promised walkers, under a sky that promised storms._

_Why was she out here?_

_It was about Daryl, and how he looked when he talked about his brother, like he was talking about someone who wasn't around anymore._

_No, it wasn't about that._

_It was about Merle's stubborn ass, about how he'd actually been putting forth an effort to be better, while simultaneously wasting those efforts chasing a ghost._

_No, it wasn't that, either._

_It was about Maggie, and how much Beth would worry herself sick if she were out here alone, hunting down the man who could've been the end of all of them._

_But it wasn't even that._

_It was about Beth, and the way Daryl dismissed her, and the way Merle laughed when she asked him for fighting lessons, and the way Maggie looked at her like she was still a kid._

_She was tired of feeling useless, feeling helpless, feeling like there were only tears inside her._

_There was fire inside her. There was bite. She had to prove she was an asset, or they'd just keep protecting her till the day they died doing so._

Like they could if they come out here looking for you? _she thought._

_But how else could she get the point across? They weren't letting her do shit back at the prison except take care of the kids and help garden and occasionally go on walks around the perimeter. It was like every time they looked at her, all they ever saw was the same girl who put that glass to her wrists._

I am not her.

I am not a dead girl.

_This thought kept her moving even as the doubts pressed in, even as the sky rumbled its discontent._

_In fact, it kept her moving right up to the moment she stepped through a blackberry patch and found there was no solid ground on the other side._

_The thought became ironic as she slid down the ravine, right into the thick of about twenty walkers._

~m~

"Left! Left!"

Beth turned, skidding on the blood-slick tile. The converging walkers drowned the roaring of her own pulse as she ducked into the stairwell, Glenn right on her heels. A few rotten fingers snapped off as they pulled the door closed.

Glenn's flashlight clicked on, illuminating the empty space. They were alone, at least as far as Beth could tell.

After a moment, he nodded to the claw in her hand. "Is that…?"

Now that she had a chance to examine it, she realized it was essentially a small rake, with a handle and a thin metal bar to which four scalpels had been crudely soldered.

"A weapon's a weapon, right?" she said.

"I mean. Yep."

"Someone knows we're here."

"Maybe. Those traps could be old. Whoever set them could be dead."

"We can't just assume that. If someone's here, where would they be?"

There were sharp things coming to life inside her, prodding her to action. If they went down, there were at least a hundred walkers waiting for them. If they went up, a four-story drop at minimum and uncertainty.

"They want us to go up," she said. "If…if they're herdin' us, they'd be drivin' us up because the first three levels are full of walkers."

Glenn's expression tightened. "We couldn't make it out by going up anyway. We could maybe scale down a window, but… But they know we got in here in the first place. They know we can get past the walkers. Why do they think that would stop us now?"

Shit. He had a point.

Frustration boiled over. "Well, we can't just sit here! We…we could—"

Below, a door creaked open. Glenn and Beth froze as snarling filled the stairwell. Whoever set that trap was around after all, and now they were—

"They're lettin' the walkers in," she whispered.

Glenn grabbed her free hand. "Come on."

No other direction but up. Beth wondered what was waiting for them there.

Another door slammed as they crested the fifth landing, and above their heads, a low crooning, like a hungry coyote. They stumbled to a halt and shone their lights up.

A face peered down at them from what looked to be the eighth or ninth floor. At first she thought it was a walker, but only the face was decayed; the hands and arms looked perfectly normal, a living human's body.

_It's a mask. They're wearing a walker's face for a mask._

Another figure appeared, and another, each one wearing a face that used to belong to someone else, each one on a different floor. And on each forehead, a painted W.

Not coyotes. Wolves.

The fifth door opened. Glenn lunged for the Wolf before they had time to attack and forced them back into the hall.

"Come on, Beth!"

The Wolves above yipped and hollered, their footsteps like thunder as they clamored down the stairs. The dead rose from below in a putrid wave, frenzied by the noise and the smell of Beth's blood.

She darted onto the fifth floor, where Glenn wrestled with the Wolf.

She didn't let herself think about it as she raised the claw, but she felt every rushing heartbeat as she drove it into the Wolf's skull. His body slumped. Blood pattered her legs.

_You can't think about it. Not until after._

The others would be on them in seconds. Ignoring the turn of her stomach, she yanked the claw out of the Wolf's head. "Which way?"

~m~

_She landed on a walker, crushing its skull against a rock without meaning to. It was probably the only thing that gave her enough time to roll sideways, away from the majority of the dead. Stagnant water soaked her, so cold it knocked the breath from her. Rocks battered her but she didn't stop. _

_At least not until she slammed into the thick roots of a fallen tree._

"_Shoot," she hissed and tried to get to her feet. _

_Pain sent her right back down. A sprained ankle or worse, but there was no time to check. The walkers closed in. Panic propelled her under the log, though its branches were thick and tried to hold her back. She clawed her way through them, gritting her teeth as they snapped and skewered her._

_But she emerged on the other side, dripping mud and blood and sand, still in one piece. Grabbing hold of a sturdy branch, she hoisted herself off the ground, hopping on one foot._

_The sky opened. Icy rain needled her face. This was turning into a fine adventure._

_The walkers piled against the log, the force of their hunger and combined weight crushing the ones in front. Beth sighed shakily and pulled her knife from her belt. With them all in one place, there was no reason not to kill them._

_She finished off three before a hand wrapped around her injured ankle. She jerked back instinctively, but the hand held firm, and pain flared all the way to her knee as she toppled to the ground._

_The walker dragged itself along the streambed, jaws snapping as it drew closer to her foot. She kicked out with her good leg, and though she dented its face, she didn't have the leverage to deal a death blow. She could lean up, stab it with her knife, but she'd have to let it get closer to reach its skull. _

_Tears blinded her, and when she blinked those away, the rain blinded her. This was what she got for sneaking out, apparently. _

_Something splashed into the stream. Beth barely had time to look up as a shadow loomed on her left, and barely time to draw breath as that shadow kicked the walker in the head and sent it sprawling. Another kick splattered its head against the ravine wall._

_Shock held her in place. She stared, trying to reconcile the fact that she wasn't about to die after all, or at the very least lose a foot. The stranger stood facing the fallen walker. Layered in such dark clothing, cloaked by a hood, it was impossible to tell anything about them._

"_H-hello?" Beth said. The snarls of the walkers nearly drowned out her voice. _

_The stranger twitched but didn't respond._

_Beth pushed to her feet, leaning heavily on the ravine wall. Her ankle throbbed a nervous beat._

"_Um. Hey. Thank you."_

_Cautiously, she inched forward. _

"_I—"_

_Quick as a blink, the stranger drew a metal rod from their back and held it out like a sword._

"_Don't come any closer." _

_Beth halted. "Okay. I-I'm sorry." _

_The stranger turned fully to face her, angling the metal rod toward Beth's throat. By its pointed tip, she realized what it was. _

_It was a fire poker. _

~m~

She'd had enough of elevator shafts for one lifetime, that was for certain.

Fortune was in their favor, since they only had to shimmy down three floors to the actual box, but trying to do that quickly was trickier than she expected. By the time they reached the roof of the elevator, every muscle in her body quivered with tension and fatigue.

Glenn got them into the elevator, and subsequently out of it, in no time at all. Beth made a mental note to ask him how he seemed so expert at it later.

The second floor was crawling with walkers, but as they raced down the hall, it appeared they had gambled correctly. Most of said walkers were distracted by the Wolves, who had chased down the stairs after Glenn and Beth but now had to fight their way through the dead.

_Poor planning, _Beth thought and almost laughed.

In the nearest open room, they tossed a monitor through the window and jumped out, two stories being much more manageable a drop than four. The car was parked on the opposite side of the building, and it wasn't the only one now. Two other rundown cars and one motorcycle sat around it; Beth guessed the Wolves had probably hidden in the woods nearby, and rolled out once they saw her and Glenn enter the building.

But the sight of the motorcycle sparked something in Beth's chest. She pulled out her knife as she ran, and when they reached the car, she turned to Glenn.

"Their tires. Slash their tires. I'll just be a sec."

"Beth—"

"I'll just be a sec!"

Glenn let out a huff that he might've intended to be words, but drew his knife and followed her advice. Beth hovered over the motorcycle.

Merle had laughed when she'd asked how to hotwire one, but he'd taught her anyway. She laughed now as she coaxed this one to life. Turned out she owed him more than she thought she did.

"Beth, we have to go," Glenn insisted. The hospital doors burst open as he spoke, disgorging a rush of Wolves and walkers.

"You take the car," she replied. "I'm takin' this."

And so she led the getaway, roaring through the night with her stolen goods and her wild, beating heart.

~m~

She arrived in time to catch a glimpse of the Alexandrians as they sped off down the road. Fury lit her belly like a bonfire. Her Wolves wandered the parking lot, looking a little like NPCs as they dispatched the dead.

She strode toward them, whistling to catch their attention. They bowed their heads at the sight of her, evoking a mental image of dogs with their tails tucked.

"What the fuck happened?"

"We're sorry," one of them said, like that was an explanation.

She grabbed him by the throat, digging her nails in deep. "Two went in, and two fucking came out. What. The fuck. Happened."

She listened while her Wolves filled her in on what they knew, which wasn't much. The sheep were slippery, they said. We'll get them next time, they said. We're useless fuck-ups, they may as well have said.

She nodded when they finished. "I see. Well. We set a new trap. And we try again. Right?"

The Wolves seemed taken aback, though it was hard to tell with the masks obscuring their faces. After a moment, they nodded, a visible wave of relief running through them.

"Right," one of them—Stewart, she thought his name was—parroted.

She drew her machete and severed his hamstrings. He collapsed with a scream. She watched him, head cocked, body angling into a predatory stance, before sinking her teeth into his throat. His wails gurgled into silence.

Once his body stopped twitching, she looked up, not bothering to wipe the blood from her mouth.

"Reset this trap," she commanded. "The Alexandrians won't trust it, but someone else will. And if it fails again, you pathetic shits will become permanent residents of this place."

They bowed their heads low and spoke in trembling unison.

"Yes, Alpha."

**A/N: One thing I'll note about my version of Alpha is that she's less an interpretation of her canon character, and more like one of my OCs up and decided to take on her role (if that makes sense). If you're familiar with my other series, I'm sure you remember she's got an entirely different story than canon Alpha (and there will be alterations in this AU as well), but if you're not, I hope you'll enjoy where I take her and how I write her. Anyway, thanks so much for reading. Stay safe and until next time! xoxo**


	5. Meet Me in the Woods

**A/N: Hello, all! Once again, I'm posting this chapter later than I said I would, and I am so sorry, I'm trying hard to keep up with this. Today's chapter song is "Meet Me in the Woods" by Lord Huron which is...such a personal song to me, and so fantastic for this chapter. Thank you guys so much for reading and reviewing, it means a lot to me! Hope you guys enjoy!  
**

5\. Meet Me in the Woods

Heated arguing woke Eugene in the morning. Specifically that bloodbending was the coolest bender ability.

His first thought was, _But metalbending, though…_

His second thought was, _Where in all fuck am I?_

It came back to him as he sat up, taking in the unfamiliar living room. At the foot of the couch where he lay, the Misfits—Mason's tight-knit pack of friends, of which he'd met all but two—had left behind a nest of blankets. Last night, after greeting him rather exuberantly, they'd all snuggled together in a heap on the floor. But Charlie, Dray and Ashlee must have already left for Alexandria.

Guilt pooled in his stomach; he wasn't used to being the last one up, but the past few weeks were wearing on him. Tripping a bit over the blankets, he followed the voices to the kitchen.

"Okay, but you're a self-proclaimed firebender, though," Lily, a tall woman with a cloud of curly hair, said. "You could _redirect lightning. _Tell me that's not dope as fuck."

"I never said it wasn't, but _waterbenders_—"

Mason broke off when she spotted Eugene and a wide grin lit her face like sunshine. His stomach fluttered.

"Good mornin'," he mumbled.

"Morning. Want some coffee? We can set off after that."

"Yes, ma'am."

Lily leaned next to him as he poured a cup. "Eugene, you're a smart guy, right? Weigh in on this debate."

"You are referring to the discourse concerning bender sub-skills, in particular which holds superiority over the others?"

"Yeah. It's lightning, right? Tell this short fry it's lightning."

"It's metalbending."

"_What_?" Mason and Lily chorused.

After downing their coffee, Mason and Eugene headed out, accepting a cheerful "good luck even though I can't accept how wrong you both are about bending and probably everything else" from Lily.

Mason plucked fruits from the trees they passed on their way out of the Kingdom. Her face was bright as she took in the clear, open sky, but it dimmed as a voice hailed her at the gate.

"Mason. Wait."

The man looked down from his watch post. Eugene couldn't understand the wariness in his expression; it wasn't aimed at Eugene, which would've made more sense. It was aimed at Mason.

"How are you, Russ?" she replied.

"You're leaving again." Not an ounce of friendliness. The two women on watch with him eyed her in the same manner. Not openly hostile, but…cold.

"Yeah. Eugene's taking me to meet his group so we can work out a trade agreement."

It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the truth, either. Eugene kept his mouth shut. It wasn't his business why she was skirting the whole story.

"Might be gone a few days," she added.

The guards didn't say anything else, merely exchanged a loaded glance before opening the gate. Mason waved a silent goodbye over the stiff set of her shoulders. A dozen questions brimmed in his mind, but Eugene kept a lid on all of them.

Only once the Kingdom disappeared behind a bend in the road did Mason speak. "Sorry about that," she sighed.

"Really and truly nothing to apologize for." He hesitated. "Um. I…I am perhaps overstepping my bounds, and you are more than entitled to tell me so, but…why—"

"Why was he acting like such a dick?"

"Yes."

Mason laughed without humor. "Um, it's a long story… I guess I don't blame him. Any of them."

"Any of them, as in the whole Kingdom?"

"Most of them, yeah. They're…scared of me."

He could tell she tried to hide it, but she ducked her head slightly in a move he recognized. Like she wanted to shrink until she could no longer be seen.

"They've seen me… There's been times I've had to do…terrible things. To protect them." She cleared her throat. "They only saw the terrible things. But. So, I mean, it's…it's understandable. It's fine."

Eugene frowned. "No, it's not."

When she glanced at him, something crossed her expression that he couldn't decipher. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…tell you that. I don't usually talk about this shit with people. I mean, except my Misfits, but they already know my story anyway."

"You are not obligated to tell me more if you don't want to. I was simply curious because, well, you seem like quite an admirable person, and since I am an excellent judge of character, that man's attitude had me itching to tell him to fuck off."

Mason laughed. "You're sweet. But it's really not a big deal, I'm used to it. Now." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a long white cord. "Music! I usually wear headphones, but I brought earphones this time so we could both listen."

Eugene took the right earbud and Mason the left, and she proceeded to introduce him to her favorite music as they walked. He couldn't help admiring the way it seemed to light her up from within. There was no sadness when she talked about her music, and he recognized just what a deep, essential part of her this was.

They walked close to keep the earbuds in place. The warmth of her arm brushed his and he breathed easier than he could ever remember breathing.

~m~

"Whoa. What. The fuck."

"Hmm?"

"How did you make _that _out of _that_?"

"Mason, I am not sure you're aware, but that bright stuff is called _fire_."

"Shut up, you dill weed."

Eugene chuckled. "Here, let me show you."

She watched in fascination as he held the foil of a gum wrapper to either end of a battery and ignited it. They were crouched close together in the middle of the woods, everything layered in the burgundy glow of dusk. Their first day had proved fruitless, but in spite of that, they remained in high spirits.

"Dude, that's _tight_," she exclaimed.

He shrugged, lighting the kindling in their campfire. "I was regularly kicked out of science classes due to the fact that, instead of following curriculum, I was researching new ways to set things on fire."

"Huh. Someone I used to know would've liked you, I think," Mason murmured, running a hand over the burgeoning flames. But she flinched from the memory to a new subject. "I never got to take any science classes. I mean, any of the fun ones."

"For reals?"

"Yeah, I…dropped out when I was fourteen."

Not for the first time that day, she wondered why the hell she was telling him this. She couldn't seem to help herself around Eugene. Something about him made her feel relaxed enough to say things she otherwise kept bottled.

"I probably would've been bad at it anyway," she continued, which was probably true. She remembered catching glimpses of the Misfits' homework assignments after quitting school and feeling completely clueless. "Science is a little too close to math, and I can't do _that _shit to save my life. But…I don't know. I always thought it'd be cool to try."

Eugene blinked. "Would you like to learn, Mason? Truth be told, I am a competent teacher, and science happens to be my wheelhouse. I could give you lessons."

"Really?"

"Of course. I can only imagine the kind of terrifying warrior you would be with an expertise in pyrotechnics."

"I might burn the world down."

"I think I'm willing to roll those dice."

Mason beamed. "In that case, thank you. What can I do for you, though?"

"Oh, ma'am, that's entirely unnecessary—"

"Anyone ever tell you it's dangerous to argue with a future pyromaniac?"

"Not verbatim."

"Of course not. That would be weird. But I'm telling you, right now, that if you don't let me do something nice for you, I will set something on fire in front of you and laugh very threateningly and nod like, 'yeah, this could be you'. It never would be, because I like you, but you wouldn't know that."

Eugene snorted with laughter. "I can't deny it's hard to oppose when you put it that way… But you are already assisting me in the search for a workshop, not to mention your willingness to aid my community, so—"

"No." Mason shook her head. "Nope. That is an official dealing between communities. _This_? This is just you and me."

For some reason, she felt embarrassed to have phrased it that way. _Just you and me. _But Eugene seemed pleased.

"Alright, ma'am, I surrender. And I suppose there is a particular matter I could use more instruction on."

"Lay it on me."

"Well, it is admittedly more physical than science lessons. I hope that doesn't make a difference."

Mason jolted, face flaming. Physical? What was that supposed to mean? She fidgeted, opening her mouth, unsure of what to say, unsure if she should trust what she might say, but Eugene continued before she could speak.

"But you are a phenomenal fighter, that there is the truth, plain as pumpkin pie," he said. "And I would be honored to possess even one iota of your skill."

"O-oh." She shook the strange buzz from her head. "Fighting. Right."

He raised an eyebrow. "What were you thinking?"

"Uh…nothing. Not anything. I don't think ever." The words tumbled out in a nervous wave, which she attempted to cover with a laugh.

_Smooth, dumbass._

"But, yeah. Fighting. I'm down. I like to fight."

"You know, I think you would get along frighteningly well with a friend of mine," Eugene said, apparently unaware of her reddening cheeks.

"They like to fight, too?" she said.

"Almost constantly."

"Coolioz."

~m~

"Holy shit. There."

Eugene pointed to a small building at the end of the alley. A ragged awning flapped dispiritedly above the door, and though the letters had worn away, he could still piece together what it said.

Metalsmithing studio.

Mason gaped. "Whoa. That big asshole in the sky really said 'let there be bullets', huh?"

"We'll discuss that questionable sentence at a later date."

They hurried to the building, but when they reached it, Mason pressed herself between him and the door.

"Let me clear it first," she said, raising her fire poker.

Eugene shook his head. "I can help. Walkers or Wolves, I cannot and will not simply stand aside while you take them all by your lonesome."

He expected her to argue, to draw back to the fact that he was not an experienced fighter, that he was weak, that he was not capable of survival.

"Oh. Yeah, of course," she said. "I want you at my back. But…I always go first. It's a Champion thing."

Stunned at such a simple win, he grinned. Mason grinned back, and it was impossible to explain the feeling in his chest, but he wanted more of it.

He brandished his machete as she pried the door open with her iron, but the workshop greeted them emptily. A quick survey confirmed there were no enemies waiting in the wings, and a small part of him couldn't help feeling disappointed.

"So. What's the verdict?" Mason asked, spinning a bit in the center of the space.

Eugene examined the workbenches and machinery, brushing the dust from various tools and molds. The place was small, humble, but his mind whirled with the potential.

"Hell yes," he murmured.

Mason clapped excitedly. "Sweet!"

He swung his rucksack onto the table and began digging out supplies, but then he paused.

"Miss Mason, would you be interested in an impromptu science lesson?"

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

"Hell yes."

He was fairly certain the council back home would have disapproved. Showing intermittent parts of the process to prove he knew his shit was one thing. Actually teaching someone from a different community was something else. But he trusted Mason, and he _had_ promised her science lessons…

And yeah. Maybe he wanted to impress her. Just a little.

So he taught her the procedure, and he did fairly well considering she kept distracting him with her proximity. She caught on quickly, though she didn't feel confident enough to try one on her own until about three bullets in.

"You promise I'm not gonna, like, blow my face off or something?" she said, cringing behind her safety goggles.

"I can't promise that, no," he said, and laughed when she threw him a distraught look. "I assure you, I would not allow you to blow your face off."

It was a long and tedious operation, but Mason played her music, repeating some of Eugene's favorites until he knew the lyrics well enough to sing to them. She didn't seem to mind that he really had no business singing, and instead harmonized warmly with him.

He had an idea that he could've spent all his time doing exactly this.

~m~

"Oh, _fuck you_, you did _not _beat a lynel straight out the gate. No fucking way."

They were on the return journey now, first to check in with Alexandria and then the Kingdom. They'd spent most of the day making bullets and the sun was on its way down, fleeing a dark bank of storm clouds rolling in from the north. The woods around them seemed thicker with gathering humidity.

Now that they knew where they were going, Eugene said they could probably make it to Alexandria in a handful of hours, but Mason was hoping he was wrong. She wasn't sure why, but the prospect of meeting the rest of his community made her nervous.

"I am not saying it wasn't difficult, and I am willing to consent that there may have been some luck involved, but I am telling you now, hand to god, I did it," Eugene replied.

"_No you fucking didn't_. You may be the best goddamned liar in the whole multiverse, but I ain't buying that shit. Those bastards are tougher than Ganon."

"Would you like me to illustrate how I earned my glory?"

"I'd like you to illustrate how full of shit you are."

"You know, Mason, it is perfectly normal to be jealous of perfection."

"Listen here, buddy boy—"

Wild rustling interrupted her. She drew her iron as a large silhouette bounded clumsily out of the undergrowth.

For a moment, she relaxed, realizing it was just a deer, but then she saw the blood. Bite marks mottled the creature's hide, and its back left leg trailed on the ground, hanging on by skin alone. It paused when it saw them, nostrils flaring with terror and exhaustion, before letting out a pitiful sound and collapsing.

The walkers followed on its heels, at least a dozen. Half of them fell on the deer, but the rest turned to Mason and Eugene.

"I'll take left," Mason said, and Eugene nodded determinedly. They strode into the dead together.

Twelve of them were easy enough, six next to nothing, but Mason couldn't help worrying about Eugene. She kept watch out of the corner of her eye, not terribly surprised when he held his own but relieved all the same.

And then one of the walkers clustered around the deer stood up, drawn by the movement. It was huge, easily exceeding six feet and built like a linebacker, with a long, wicked-looking blade protruding from its left shoulder. It made a beeline straight for Eugene, who had his back turned dispatching another walker.

"Fuck," Mason hissed and leapt between them. She swung her iron, but it clanged against the walker's head without making a dent, and only then did she see the light glinting off the metal spilled in messy rivulets down its head.

"_Fuck_."

She rammed it back, throwing her whole body against its chest. Skin sliding in gore, she aimed her iron, intending to wedge it through the walker's chin straight into its brain.

A second walker grabbed her arm, yanking her off balance. She leaned back, trying to gain enough leverage from the metalhead to kick the second walker away, but as she did, she felt teeth tangling in her hair and putrid saliva dribble down her neck.

Eugene's shout cut through her fear. In the next second, the weight of the second walker went slack, while the weight of the metalhead disappeared completely. The second walker toppled to the ground, Eugene's machete embedded deep in its skull. Mason turned to find Eugene with his hand mashed against the metalhead's upper lip, just a hairsbreadth from its snapping teeth and sliding closer…

"No!" Mason cried, shoving Eugene away and jamming the poker up through the metalhead's churning jaw.

She let it fall to the ground with her iron still in it, too panicked to care. "Eugene!"

He stood a few feet back, staring at her. His left hand clutched his right arm hard enough to turn his knuckles as white as his face.

Fresh blood dripped down his wrist.

"Oh, _fuck_," Mason said, though it sounded suspiciously like a sob, and rushed to him. "Let me see."

Trembling, he laid his hand in hers, and she pulled his sleeve up to reveal even more blood. She sucked in a breath through her teeth, stomach so tight she thought she might puke, but as her fingers cast about, it dawned on her that she couldn't find a wound.

"It…it…" She shook her head before realizing that the blood was running down from much higher. "Take off your shirt."

He tried to obey, but his hands shook so badly that he couldn't manage the buttons, so she did it for him. Immediately her eyes went to the wound on his upper arm, just one single puncture. Bleeding pretty good, but…clean. Not ragged the way a bite or scratch would be. A glance back at the metalhead pieced it together.

"The blade," she said, breathless. "In its shoulder. It cut you."

Shuddering with relief, she swept him into a fierce hug. After a moment, his arms wrapped around her, and they held each other so long Mason felt his pulse relax back into what she assumed was its normal rhythm.

Which then made her remember that he was shirtless, which then made her just a touch dizzier than she already felt.

"Um." Gently she pulled away. "Are you okay otherwise?"

"Yes, I believe so." Some semblance of animation returned to him then, his eyes darting about as he examined her. "Are _you _okay?"

"I'm…" Fear was subsiding, rage taking its place. "You just…_threw _your goddamn hand at that fucker's mouth, didn't you?"

"W-well…no, my hand is incapable of detaching, so I can't—"

"_Don't _you even fucking play right now. You could've got yourself killed, or bit, and I swear to god—you—" Mason growled and poked a finger against his bare chest. "Just. Don't ever do something that stupid again."

"It wasn't stupid," Eugene mumbled. "It was your life, Mason. And I'd do it again. Throw me in this exact situation over and over, and I assure you, I'd do the same every time."

His gaze held hers, and her chest ached.

"Thank y—"

A walker stumbled out of the trees, snatching Eugene's arm in its grimy hands and champing at his throat.

Mason saw red.

In a blink, her hands were around the walker's neck, blood bursting as her fingers sank deep. It tried to fight back, teeth clacking, hands pawing at her arms, but she just kept squeezing until it went down.

And then she was whirling to grab her fire iron, movements savage as she attacked the last of the walkers. They arose from their feast on the deer, but they couldn't stand against her rage.

It took a moment, standing amid their fallen bodies, for that rage to dull. But once it did, her lungs began to shrink realizing what she'd done. How wild she'd become.

"Mason."

She couldn't look at him. She couldn't stand to see the fear on his face, the same way the rest of the Kingdom looked at her.

"Mason?"

She kept her eyes carefully on the ground. She made a game of picking out patterns in the blood splattered on nearby leaves.

"Are you okay?" she murmured.

"I am perfectly fine, ma'am. Are you?"

"I'm good. We should get your arm wrapped up."

But she didn't move any closer to him. She didn't want to see him flinch away from her. Not him.

When he strode forward, it startled her enough to finally look up. There was no consternation on his face.

"You saved me and I saved you," he said and smiled. It was genuine and sweet. She thought she might cry. "I don't think I am incorrect in saying that we make a pretty good team."

She swallowed hard before she answered, afraid her voice might crack. "Yeah, we do. Let's, um… Here."

And he stood, still and patient and unafraid, while she tended to his arm.

~m~

The sky opened about an hour later and both of them were drenched in seconds. Droplets pelted them at an angle, kicked up by a furious wind, which admittedly felt good on Eugene's burning arm. The lightning, however, promised one hell of a storm.

He was about to suggest they try find shelter when the lightning illuminated a shape up ahead. It was a car, half-sunk in the soil and covered in leaves. He and Mason exchanged little more than a glance before scurrying toward it.

"Holy shit," Mason gasped once they were safely inside.

"Yeah, that big asshole in the sky really said 'let's drown these fuckers', huh?" Eugene muttered.

Mason giggled. "Yeah, you look like a drowned rat."

"That's just part of my natural allure."

Mason's giggles dissolved into full-blown laughter, and it was so contagious Eugene started laughing, too. They leaned against each other in the middle of the seat, crouched close for warmth, shivering and cracking the fuck up.

But once the laughter died down, Mason pulled away with an uncertain glance.

"I'm sorry," she said. "About today. I didn't mean to, like, lose it like that." Just like before, she wouldn't meet his gaze, but the pain in her expression was obvious.

_There's been times I've had to do…terrible things. To protect them._

_They're…scared of me._

"I got nine people killed on the journey from Houston to here, and it was not for noble intentions such as yours."

He couldn't stop the words, but the doubt was immediate. He hadn't brought this part of his past up with anyone in Alexandria since apologizing to Abraham, but it made no difference. It was always there, a subtext keeping him separate, keeping him on the fringe when he longed for the heart. Now here he was, blatantly admitting it to someone who knew nothing about it and likely demolishing her opinion of him in the process.

But she looked at him then, and none of that mattered. He needed to say it, he needed to tell her, so that she knew… Whatever she did, she was a good person.

"Instead of protecting others, I was attempting to protect my own ass. You see, I have been afraid of everything for as long as I can remember, and I have always been a very good liar, and those two things are not mutually exclusive. I had no hope of defending myself when the world went to shit, as I possessed no viable survival skills apart from perjury. I fabricated a colossal lie so that…whoever I came across would be disinclined to leave me."

He took a deep breath, remembering the hurt and betrayal and rage on his friends' faces when he told them.

"I bluffed that I was a scientist, and that I had sole knowledge as to the components of a potential cure, and that I needed to get to D.C. to formulate it."

The storm shook the car. Mason stared at him for so long his palms began to sweat.

"Well, that's…I mean, yeah, that's a dick move," she finally said. "But you're not that guy anymore, right?"

Her easy acceptance threw him. "I am…trying very hard not to be."

"You're not that guy. I see you. You're trying to help your people, you fight for them. You fucking saved _my _ass today. You're not your past unless you choose to be, you know?"

It took a moment for him to recover, but when he did he cleared his throat and said, "W-well… Yes, but. Respectfully, Miss: same goes for you."

She jumped, obviously not expecting this. "What?"

"I am fully aware that in this day and age, people are required to go to extremes to survive and to keep their loved ones alive. I am not afraid of you."

_Loved ones?_

Eugene flushed, about to correct himself, but Mason didn't seem to register that particular part. Tears gleamed in the corners of her eyes.

"I…"

She shook her head, and a single tear rolled down her cheek before she embraced him.

"Thank you," she said.

"There is no need to thank me for the truth."

"Sure there is, if you're the best liar in the multiverse."

He might've responded, but she buried her face in his neck and something inside him melted.

~m~

Sunlight woke Mason in the morning, and the buzzing silence following a storm. She was pleasantly warm, though her clothes were still damp, and she realized quickly why.

She and Eugene were cuddled close, limbs tangled together, Mason's head resting on his chest.

She held still for a moment, unsure whether she should wake him. He was snoring lightly, but beneath that she could hear his heartbeat, and outside the chirping of birds, and…it was peaceful.

She snuggled closer, content to watch the sunrise through the leaves speckling the car windows.

About an hour later, Eugene stirred. "Mm… Mason?"

"Hey," she said, gently extricating herself from his hold. "Mind if I take a look at your arm?"

"Long as you buy me a drink first."

Mason raised an eyebrow. Eugene shook his head.

"I don't know, I just woke up."

After ascertaining that the wound did not look infected, Mason led the way outside, breathing in the rain-washed air. Everything twinkled under a layer of droplets and sunshine.

"Beautiful," she said.

"Yeah." Eugene's voice was soft, and when she turned to look, he glanced away quickly.

Mason tapped her toe. It was time to go home, but this moment…she wanted more of it. Just a little.

"Hey," she said. "You interested in an impromptu fighting lesson?"

His eyes widened. "Really?"

She grinned. "Hell yeah."

**A/N: So I know this chapter was pretty light-hearted, and I hope y'all don't mind, but I just thought...it might be a nice, with everything going on. But anyway! Hope y'all are doing good. I'll try to get the next chapter out as soon as possible, but until next time, much love! xoxo  
**


	6. Patience

**A/N: So this is the first long chapter! I don't know if that's good news or not. I've been trying to keep them shorter but I knew I wouldn't be able to keep that up for long, so... lol The chapter song is "Patience" by Tame Impala, it's pretty chill. Super huge thank you to y'all reading and reviewing, it means a whole lot to me! Hope you enjoy!**

6\. Patience

"_Turn, Mason, turn! They're coming in on your left!" _

_Tires screeched as she rounded the corner, and the truck bounced over an arm or a leg or some such carnage. Naomi screamed hoarsely in the backseat and Mason cringed._

"_Sorry, sorry!"_

_Her eyes scanned wildly as she maneuvered the crowded street, hopping curbs and swerving between pockets of the dead. She hoped for some sign of the other Misfits, but there was none. The herd cut them off fifteen minutes back and she hadn't seen them since._

"_You sure you know where the fuck you're going?" Gina grunted, coiled in the passenger seat like an angry snake._

_No one had wanted her to join them on their way out of L.A. Even Mason had been reluctant to allow it; the tension from their relationship and subsequent break-up was like some kind of fucked up third wheel. But Gina had pleaded, saying that she was different now, she'd seen a therapist and gotten help. In any case, they weren't in a position to turn down anyone who might aid them, especially when Gina was so good at handling those…things. _

"_I grew up here, Gina," Mason said. _

_From the start, it was always factored into the plan that their caravan out of L.A. would make a pit stop in Kansas to find Mason's mother. Five years since leaving home, and she couldn't stop worrying about her mother. She wondered if she'd ever found it in her to leave Jeff—Mason couldn't bring herself to call him "dad"—but doubted it. If she had…wouldn't she have tried to reconnect with her daughter? Even if that daughter…even if that daughter abandoned her?_

_Naomi wailed again, jarring Mason from her thoughts. She caught a glimpse of Naomi's sweat-streaked face in the rearview mirror, pinched in agony._

"_How's she doing back there?"_

"_Her contractions are two minutes apart," Will replied. _

"_We really need to get to the house," Nick added._

_Mason gritted her teeth. She was already driving as fast as she dared through streets littered with debris and dead bodies, not to mention the ones that refused to stay dead. One wrong move and they could be stranded in the middle of the converging herd. _

_Luckily the old neighborhood opened up on their left; three more blocks and they were there. The same street she used to play in when her parents argued late into the night, hoping someone might look out their window and wonder at the little girl dancing alone in the middle of the road._

_A pit yawned in her stomach at the sight of it. Not just the rush of memories, but…_

_The dead were already here. It looked as though the whole neighborhood had been ransacked. And then she spotted her house, faded and rundown, front window broken on one side, door ajar. Jeff's truck was parked in the driveway, but…_

_Was it possible her mother was still there? Was her mother even still alive?_

_There was no time for doubt. The dead continued relentlessly behind them, several hundred at least, with more emerging from broken houses and backyards at the rumble of the truck and its pursuers. Mason drove right up onto the lawn, angling the truck as best she could so the passenger side opened next to the front door._

_She turned to Nick and Will. "You two get Naomi inside. Gina and I will cover you."_

_Quickly she retrieved her makeshift weapon from under the seat. It was an old fence post, wrapped in thistle and barbed wire, that she'd pulled from the earth on their escape out of California. It had seen so much use it was starting to crack down the center, but every place they might have stopped for weapons was overrun, so there'd been no chance to swap it for something sturdier. _

_She and Gina hopped out, opening both passenger doors to create a makeshift barrier as Nick and Will hoisted Naomi out of the car. The dead pressed in quickly. Mason beat them back as best she could, leaning full-force into the door with one shoulder, using it as a shield. _

_Once the others made it inside, however, there was no option but to retreat. She and Gina backed into the house, shoulder to shoulder, fending off their pursuers until they could slam the front door shut._

_The thudding of the dead against the house became thunderous. Mason exchanged a look with Gina, whose face was locked in a vicious snarl. Anyone who didn't know Gina as well as Mason did might not have seen it, but there was fear underneath that fury. That was how Mason knew._

_They were fucked._

~m~

"Are you nervous, Mason?"

Mason frowned, but found she couldn't look away from the looming wall surrounding Alexandria. "Why would you think that?"

"Because I have no circulation in my left hand."

Startled, she glanced down to see that her hand was locked in a death grip around Eugene's. She couldn't remember even grabbing it.

"Shit, I'm sorry." Hastily she let go. "I used to get really bad social anxiety before the Turn, and you would think the end of the world would make all that irrelevant, but here we are!"

Not to mention ninety percent of the people in her _own _community weren't particularly fond of her, but she supposed that was neither here nor there…

Eugene chuckled. "Well, you have already made your acquaintance with Alexandria's own local cryptid, and if you can handle that, I think you'll do just fine with the rest of them."

"…You mean Daryl, right?"

"Who else?"

Charlie and Ashlee greeted them at the gate, accompanied by a thickly-built man with a kind face.

"'Sup, nerds," Charlie said. "How'd it go?"

"Almost effortlessly," Eugene replied.

"Almost," Mason muttered with a glance at Eugene's arm.

"We have just come to check in with Rick and inform him of our success. By the way, Mason, this is Tyreese."

The man with the kind face smiled. "Nice to meet you," he said. "Thank you for all you're doing to help us."

"Oh. It's all good." She gave him a thumbs-up, knowing how awkward she seemed but unable to stop herself. She wasn't good at handling thank you's.

Eugene led her inside while the others stayed behind to finish their watch. And the community was…beautiful. Trees, gardens, a bridge over a small pond. In another life, the houses might've been manicured, expensive and untouchable, but here they seemed almost quaint. Like home.

A young man with a heavy limp approached them, accompanied by a pregnant woman.

"Rick's in the infirmary checking on the others," the woman said, wiping a bead of sweat from her temple. "You find what you need out there?"

"Yes, Miss Williams."

She sagged visibly with relief. "So how long until we can start manufacturing?"

Eugene handed her his rucksack. "Already have. There will be more coming down the pipe, I assure you, but for now we could only forge twelve. Make them count."

"I always do."

"Who were they?" Mason whispered as they walked away, presumably headed for the infirmary.

"That would be Noah and Sasha," Eugene replied. "Noah is in charge of architectural repair and maintenance, and was running a crew set to expand this community before the Wolves found us. Sasha is one of our finest sharpshooters, and unfortunately has not been allowed a chance to take it easy during her pregnancy."

Both of them skinny were and clearly exhausted. In fact, everyone they passed looked that way.

The picture became even clearer when they entered the infirmary. All the beds were taken up by the injured. Mason blanched; she didn't share the same gene that had motivated her mother to go into nursing, not an ounce of that unique passion and fortitude that fueled Renee every day.

"Well, look who's back from his vacation," a large man said from a nearby bed. Mason had to blink twice to confirm that he was not, in fact, her friend, Tanner, although the resemblance was uncanny. Both tall, muscular, red hair and freckles. This man was clearly older, but also clearly just as reckless as Tanner, judging by the ugly bruising on his left temple.

"Mason, this is Abraham," Eugene said. She couldn't help noticing that his voice and expression were flatter now—and had been since they'd entered the community. "I consider him a friend, and I believe he considers the same of me, but I also believe he still gets flashes of murderous rage at the sight of my face. Is that correct?"

"Yeah, but only your face. The rest of you just inspires annoyance."

Mason glanced at Eugene, who mouthed "D.C." without quite looking at her.

Ah. Right.

Rick found them then, accompanied by a young blonde woman who took one look at Eugene's arm and sternly pulled him aside.

"You found a place, then?" Rick asked.

Mason nodded. "The twelve bullets we made, Eugene gave to Sasha."

He laid a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you."

"Oh. No problem, dude."

He excused himself to talk with Eugene. Mason fidgeted nervously; she didn't particularly want to be left alone in a room full of injured strangers.

"So you're this Champion everyone's been talking about," Abraham said, examining her. "Pretty small."

Mason bristled, but he went on.

"But heavens and balls, you're a muscly little thing." He didn't say it the way most men said it, but with actual admiration.

Her lips twitched. "I could bench you."

Abraham laughed but it cut off with a wince, his hand pressed against his stomach. "Yeah, and I could toss you like a football."

"Do it. I wanna see how far you can throw me."

"I'm glad that walking calculator brought you home. I like you."

There wasn't enough time to tour the rest of the community; Rick sent them off once he'd finished his discussion with Eugene, who returned to Mason with a troubled expression.

"Everything alright?" she asked.

"Hm? O-oh, yes, ma'am, it's just…" He hesitated, peering at the sky. "One of our scouting groups has yet to return from a run. Rick was expressing his concern."

"Shit. You don't think they ran into trouble?"

He didn't answer directly. Just said, "There's always some trouble, sure as heat in a habanero. Let us just keep any and all extremities crossed that we don't run into it on our way back to the Kingdom."

~m~

"_Last door on the left!" _

_Nick and Will half-carried, half-dragged Naomi into Mason's old bedroom, and Mason and Gina stumbled after them. At some point Gina had lost her baseball bat, but traded it out for the fire poker Mason remembered Jeff keeping in the living room but never using. Her own weapon was worse for wear, splintering with each swing she took at the dead. But she couldn't stop. _

_They barely made it to the room, but the dead were so thick they couldn't close the door. Mason threw her whole weight against it while Gina dispatched the ones fighting through the gap._

"_Breathe with me, Nomes. Breathe through it," Will said. His voice was calm, but he gripped her knees in white knuckles that betrayed his tension._

_Naomi snarled in response. Nick held her head up, brushing the sweat from her eyes._

_The door groaned. Hands swiped at Mason's face, tangling in her hair._

"_Nick!" she barked. "We need you!" _

_But before he could get there, the hinges groaned and the door swung open at the top, bursting from the pressure of so many bodies. Incredible weight bent Mason low, and her lungs seized, realizing she was about to be crushed. _

~m~

"Something's wrong, isn't it?"

Eugene jumped. They weren't far from the Safe Zone, just passing the water tower on the outskirts, but the walk had been mostly silent until now.

"Well…"

_Don't lie to her. Don't lie._

He sighed. "I suppose it depends on your definition of the word. It…it…"

When the hesitation continued, she elbowed him. "Hey. You can tell me, whatever it is. You already told me about the worst thing you ever did, I think we're past that now."

"It is not something that I need to tell you, but instead a question that I have been required to ask."

"Is that what you and Rick were talking about?"

"Yes."

"Then ask me."

"When you met us, and we inquired about your strange methods of corralling the dead, you said you were collecting them. For people who deserved that kind of thing. And when you were appealing to Rick as to why your community never reached out after the quarry herd, you admitted to near ruination at the hands of…unfriendlies. More than a few, I am assuming."

Mason stopped walking. Eugene resisted the urge to wring his hands.

"And…when you and I departed the Kingdom on our search, I did not fail to notice that you omitted the truth from the asshole at the gate. Not that I particularly blame you on that count—"

"What are you trying to say, Eugene?" Mason said flatly. She glared at the pavement, one toe tapping.

"Mason, I know that there is something going on under the surface here. I am a very accomplished liar, which makes me a very accomplished lie detector, and I am well aware that not all of it is my business, not even by half, but… If our communities hope to engage in future friendly dealings, we need to be aware of any hostilities lurking in the shadows."

She shook her head, face pinched. "Don't make me tell you all of it."

"I would never ask that, Mason. Not unless you wanted to."

Her eyes welled with something like desperation. "But that's just it," she said. "It's not that I don't want to. You're the first… I mean, I can't tell _anyone_. I vowed not to."

Eugene nodded. "Okay. So just tell me enough. The people who threatened your Kingdom—are they still around? Is it over?"

Mason dragged her toe across the faded yellow highway line. Eugene thought he already knew the answer.

"They're still around," she finally said. "It's not over."

There was silence for a moment, broken only by the soft sigh of the wind and the whirring of insects praising the heat.

"I mean, it's not, like…we're being attacked on the daily or anything. Not anymore. I guess it's sort of like the Cold War at this point. But… Only a few of us know the whole story. Me, Jerry, Ezekiel. The Misfits and a few select Knights who…" She shook her head. "Only the people that survived that first war know the truth."

It took everything in him not to bombard her with questions. It was his nature, needing to know things. Especially things that made her look so distraught, that perhaps kept her on the fringes just like him. But he wouldn't do that to her. He did not believe she was a liar in the same way he had been—selfish and indiscriminate. She didn't owe him any part of her truth that she wasn't willing to give.

"But they don't know about your people," Mason continued, eyes flashing. "At least as far as I know. And I won't let them have you. I won't."

_Have _them?

Before he could respond, she took the iron and shield from her back and knelt before him.

"Please don't look at me goofy," she muttered, then stuck her shield in the ground and held the poker across her heart. "I swear to you, and your people, my iron, my blood, and all the fire within me. I swear, whether my shadow fall by sunlight or moonlight, to be an ally and a friend to you. I won't let any harm befall you that I can prevent. I will protect you to my dying breath."

She bowed her head. Sunlight peeked out from under the bowl of the water tower, illuminating her in palest gold. Eugene opened his mouth but couldn't find words.

When the silence continued, she glanced up, a wry smile on her face. "Too corny? It's just a habit we got into, during the war. And…well, you've met Ezekiel. We're all about that jejune shit."

"On the contrary, Miss Champion, I thought it was…exactly corny enough."

She huffed a laugh, but when she got back to her feet her expression was earnest. "I mean it, though. All of it. Our communities are allies now, that means your people fall under my protection just the same as my own do. But you can't mention this to anyone. Tell Rick because he asked, and I get why, but my Kingdom can't know."

_Is that wise?_

_How do they not know already?_

_Why are they not privy to that information?_

He didn't ask any of these questions. "I give you my word, as a fellow liar and as your friend, that I will not tell a single soul aside from Rick."

He held out a hand, pinky finger extended. Mason smirked and hooked her own pinky around his.

"Thank you. I know it probably seems really sketchy, but I promise…we have good reason for keeping this under wraps."

~m~

_Before the dead could trample her completely, Gina swung her out from under the door like a ragdoll. _

"_Get off your fucking ass."_

_Nick shoved Mason's old dresser against the hanging door. All of the knickknacks on top clattered to the floor, and it struck her distantly that her mother had kept her room exactly the same. _

_Despite Nick's efforts, about a dozen of the dead made it inside. She scrambled to her feet as they advanced, forming a line in front of Naomi with Gina and Nick._

_The first familiar face sent a jolt through her. Always so unpleasant before, it was even more so now, half of his mouth torn away to reveal decaying flesh. His milky eyes flicked to her, and she felt that same rush of anxiety she used to feel whenever his attention was on her._

_He groaned, clumsy arms reaching for her neck. There was no remorse in her as she swung her weapon, cracking it and his skull irreparably. Jeff collapsed on her bedroom floor, finally, mercifully silent._

_She dropped the useless remains of the fence post, casting about for another weapon. One of the crystals from her dresser lay nearby, and she moved to pick it up._

_The next familiar face knocked her lungs clean of air. She shuddered for breath and could find none. _

_One of the dead had gotten past Nick and Gina. Its cold eyes locked on Mason as it staggered forward, congealed blood and gray skin and—_

_No. It wasn't her, it couldn't be her._

_But her mother lurched forward with a snarl and Mason's knees shook, threatening to pull her under._

~m~

Dave and Tanner waited in the throne room with Ezekiel and Jerry, talking in low voices. All four looked up when Mason and Eugene entered, and Dave's face lit up immediately.

"Mason!"

Bouncing like an excited puppy, he hopped off the stage and ran to engulf her in one of his patented bone-crushing hugs. Despite being no bigger than Mason herself, his hugs really could kill a man.

She laughed—at least as much as she could with limited lung function. "Hey—can't fucking breathe, dude."

"Sorry. How was your trip? I heard you're making bullets now. Tan and I have some shit to tell you, by the way, and it is _wild_."

She raised an eyebrow at Tanner. "That true?"

"Unfortunately," he grunted before picking her up and spinning her around.

"Put me down, dammit!" But the protest was half-hearted. Dave and Tanner had been gone for a week and a half on a supply run, and she never felt right unless she knew all her Misfits were safe.

"Chill, princess." When he set her down, he turned immediately to size up Eugene, who stared back with wide eyes.

"Abraham?" she mouthed and he nodded slightly. The resemblance really was uncanny.

"Who is this?" Dave asked, scooting between Tanner and Eugene. He extended a hand. "You're the bullet maker, right?"

Eugene shook his hand. "That is correct."

"Oh, so you're good with your hands—"

"Okay," Mason cut in irritably. "Eugene, this is Dave. Dave, Eugene."

"Pleasure to meet you," Eugene said.

"I sure hope so," Dave replied, grinning when Mason threw him a glare.

"Sir Alchemist," Ezekiel called. "I am most pleased to see you safely returned from your journey. Come. There are matters we must discuss with you and my lady Mason."

As they approached the stage, Mason turned to Dave and hissed, "Must you insist on being such a flirt?"

"Hey, I'm not always a flirt. Just when you bring snacks home. I mean, the hair is…something else, but he's really cute."

"Yeah, he is. Shut up about it."

Dave and Tanner gaped, but thankfully Ezekiel spoke before they could.

"Did the Fates grant you success on your quest?"

"Yes, sir," Eugene answered. "Er, your Majesty. The workshop is not far by vehicle, just east a piece. If you accompany me there, I will be able to prove my—"

But Ezekiel raised a hand. "My lady. You witnessed the alchemist fashion such armaments?"

"Yes, your Majesty."

"Then I have no need to accompany you to your workshop. I take my Champion at her word."

After her earlier discussion with Eugene, this made her flinch. What was her word worth if she was a liar?

"I offer my sincerest apologies for this tedium. A wise man makes no deals without knowledge of its materiality. But now I have my proof, and you may have what was agreed to you. I have prepared a car to take you back to your community. It is brimming with food and supplies for your people, as promised. Tanner and Dave will accompany you there, and will aid you in the continuation of your alchemy."

Mason and Eugene exchanged a glance.

"With respect, your Majesty…what about Mason?" he asked. "Will she be accompanying me, too?"

"Ah, I am afraid I need Mason to remain here," Ezekiel replied, and nodded to Dave, who took over from there.

"Yeah, okay, so, when Tan and I were out, we came across this little town or city or something. It was too small to be a real city but too big to be just a town, you know? Anyway, we were gonna scavenge it, but then we saw these weirdoes hanging around and decided against it cuz there were just so many. Like, for real, these guys were…" He shuddered.

"Some of the freaks were wearing masks," Tanner cut in. "Cut from decomp skins. Fucking straight up cut the faces off the dead like that weird dude from that _Texas Chainsaw_ movie—"

"Leatherface," Mason murmured distantly.

"Yeah, him."

"A lot of them weren't wearing masks, though," Dave said. "But all of them had W's painted on their heads."

Eugene's expression darkened. "The Wolves."

"Yeah, that's who Ezekiel thought they probably were. But anyway, we stayed long enough to spy a little bit, and we heard them talking about attacking your place, Alexandria."

"When?" Eugene's hands trembled, but his voice was steady.

"Sometime this week," Tanner answered. "Don't know for sure. Fuckers wouldn't get more specific."

"Well, I have to go then," Mason said. "If they're gonna attack, Alexandria needs every fighter they can get."

"That is why I am sending your Misfits over as reinforcement, all except Renee and you, yourself. As my Champion and strongest Knight, I need you here, to protect and rally as the need arises. With such dangerous forces lurking beyond our gates, I can take no chances with the safety and continuity of this Kingdom."

"Ezekiel, please—"

"That is my final word on the matter," he said, in the firm voice of the King.

There was no room for argument, and no time for it, besides. Mason accompanied them to the car, which Lily had parked by the gate. Her and Renee sat on the trunk.

Dave and Tanner bid Mason farewell, glancing between her and Eugene in a way that guaranteed she wasn't off the hook for her earlier…whatever that was.

"Just be safe, okay?" she told them.

"Of course!" Dave said.

"There's no fun in that," Tanner said.

"You know we can't promise you anything but love and LARPing, sweetie," Lily said.

Mason was still scowling when Eugene approached her. "They're aging my arteries, I can feel it," she said. "I'm gonna have a heart attack at twenty-five."

His lips twitched. "Forgive me, Miss Champion, but you are hardly the person to be criticizing them for their recklessness."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing." His teasing made her stomach flutter, so she grabbed his hands like that might stop the feeling. He blinked and said, "Well. I suppose this is goodbye for now."

"But we'll see each other soon," Mason insisted.

"Real soon."

She squeezed his hands. "Please be safe. I'm not done kicking your ass during training."

"And I'm not done teaching you ways to potentially blow your face off."

Lily honked the horn, making them both jump.

"Come on, you two, we gotta go!"

"Right." Mason let go. "Um. Just. Yeah."

"Yeah." Eugene grinned. "See you real soon, ma'am."

She and Renee stood back to watch as they drove away. Renee elbowed her as the gate closed.

"So. What are you and the mullet guy planning to do about that mad sexual tension you got going on?"

"_Excuse _me?"

Renee seemed utterly unimpressed by her outrage. "Oh, please," she said. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't want to ride him like a pogo stick."

Mason scoffed.

And tried. She gave it her literal best effort.

"…_Fuck_ you, Ren."

"No, no. Not me."

"Okay, so…maybe…it's crossed my mind." Admitting this filled her with anxiety, but she couldn't take it back.

"So quit the suspense and just sleep with him. You know you can't function when you're horny."

"Yes, I can. And anyway, I can't just…I mean, it's not that simple…"

Renee's jaw dropped. "Oh my god."

"What…?"

"You have a _crush_ on that guy."

"Renee—"

"Holy shit."

"Stop. Hey. I don't…it…" Mason rubbed her arm manically, blood rushing in her ears. At this point, could she really lie to herself? "It's just a crush—"

"I fucking _knew it_."

"Shut up, you've known it for, like, five seconds. Besides, that's not my biggest concern right now."

And it wasn't. She was much more concerned with the fact that Eugene was going back to Alexandria _without _her, when they were expecting another attack. And, yeah, her Misfits could handle themselves in a fight; they were the elite Knights of the Kingdom. But she had _sworn _herself to Eugene, and to Alexandria, and it wasn't in her nature to sit back and wait for an outcome.

"True," Renee said. "But when all this is over, what's stopping you from taking a chance on this guy? Or anyone?"

_Same thing keeping you handcuffed inside these walls._

Guilt and fear. Renee could not forgive herself for losing so many in the war. Mason could not forgive herself for losing people, too. The difference was, their losses in the war were not Renee's fault in any capacity. But Will, Nick, Naomi…Gina. That was Mason's fault.

Not to mention, on a smaller scale, her shitty…well, it wasn't really luck, was it? Her shitty handle on relationships. The absolute train wreck that was her and Gina. Every date, casual or otherwise, that she'd intentionally sabotaged. And even after the Turn, that time she'd spent locked in a bus with…

_Beth._

She flinched from the name. She hadn't thought of it in months, hadn't let herself. All it did was exhume her own self-loathing. Granted, Beth was alive and well the last time she saw her. But it didn't change the fact that she was just another bullet point in a long list of reasons why she shouldn't fuck around with relationships.

"You know you have to take a chance on something sometime," Renee said.

Her teeth ground together. "I will when you stop trying to atone for shit that's out of your control."

"This is my job, Mason. I'm doing my job."

"Yeah, it's all you do. You don't give a shit about yourself anymore. You never do anything that makes you happy."

Renee snorted. "Well, I guess we're both fucked, huh?"

Mason glared at the gate. "Yeah. Guess so."

~m~

_Her mother advanced crookedly. One leg was bent to the side at a hideous angle, and a shard of bone peeked through below the knee._

_Mason staggered back with a whimper. In her mind, it was the night she left again, breaths muted as she packed her things, pulse thundering so loud she thought her efforts might be wasted after all. Opening her mother's door to get one last glimpse of her face; it was only ever peaceful in sleep. Crying silently the whole way down streets she used to dance down…_

"_Mom," she said thickly. Everything in her was congealing. Her movements were thick as clay. Distantly she registered a new sound in the chaos. A high-pitched wailing. A baby's cry._

_Her mother snarled. There was no recognition in her eyes. Her jaw moved but not to say Mason's name. Not to say anything._

_Mason cringed against the wall. She shouldn't have left. This was her fault, if she'd stayed she could've protected her, she was a coward and a murderer—_

_Someone screamed._

_Mason's eyes flashed open in time to see her mother tear Will's throat open. And the hideous gurgling his screams became. And all she could see was Will with his arms around Dave, and Dave's face from one car over as the herd separated them, and what his face would look like when he found out…_

_She screamed, too._

_Her hand closed around the crystal and swung upward, straight into her mother's temple._

~m~

When had the days become so fucking _long_?

After arriving back at Alexandria, there was a night spent explaining everything to the council, and another aside explaining everything Mason had told him exclusively to Rick. Rick wasn't terribly pleased, but not terribly surprised, either. He thanked Eugene and told him to get some rest, there would be work to do in the morning.

But there wasn't enough to keep his mind occupied, at least not with the right things. He passed the time collecting supplies to make more bullets, then traveling to the workshop with the Misfits to make said bullets. Nights were harder. No one asked anything more of him, and though the Misfits seemed inclined to make friends, they were always out on watch or patrol. It was like he'd forgotten how to be alone.

It wasn't just anyone's company he craved, of course, which was stupid. Mason was… Well, the idea of her ever feeling the same about him was laughable. That didn't mean they couldn't be friends. That didn't mean he wasn't allowed to miss her.

He spent a lot of his time cooking, utilizing Carol's kitchen as she hoarded the best cookware. There were meals that needed prepped, now that they had food to work with. That's what he was doing, humming one of Mason's songs under his breath, when he heard the shouts.

He paused immediately, heart leapfrogging to his throat. The shouting didn't stop, and was quickly followed by screams.

"Fuck."

He rushed to the window, peering between the curtains. His people, running for the east wall, others running for the gate. Lily, Dave and Ashlee had already taken up positions with their arrows nocked, Rosita, Carl and Gabriel standing with them. Rick, Michonne, Tanner, Daryl and Morgan disappeared through the gate.

He needed to be out there. They needed every fighter they could get.

_You're not a fighter._

But he remembered that morning outside the car with Mason, sunlight turning dewdrops to gold around them, and her walking him through the basic steps. He remembered how she hadn't looked at him with pity, disdain, frustration, but like he could actually be the person he was striving for.

_You're not your past unless you choose to be._

A window smashed in the back of the house and set his thoughts to spinning.

Footsteps hurrying toward the kitchen.

Water boiling on the stove.

He moved instinctively.

The person appeared in his peripheral vision, looming and grimy and wielding an axe. Eugene grabbed the pot, twisting out of the way as the axe came down, and tossed the scalding water in the man's face.

He howled, dropping his weapon and clawing at his steaming skin. Eugene brought the pot down on his head and the howling stopped.

"H-holy shit," he breathed, hands shaking so bad that the pot clattered to the floor. The man must have snuck past the others before anyone really knew what was happening.

_You can't stop._

The fear was near-stifling as he bent to retrieve the axe, like trying to breathe with cotton in his lungs. Everything blurred as he hurried out of the house and toward the gate.

Sasha was there, aiming her gun through a tiny gap. Her eyes went wide when she saw him.

"Eugene. What the hell are you doing?"

"Whatever I can. With respect, Miss Williams, please let me through."

"Eugene, you can't—"

"They're my family, too!" he snapped. "Now let me through. Please."

Her eyes went frosty, and he was sure he would pay for his temper later, but thankfully she let him pass.

The others were gathered in the woods to the east, holding a cluster of Wolves at bay. Some of them had already scaled the wall, but were quickly sent back down with arrows in their hearts and eyes.

Eugene didn't give the fear a chance to freeze his limbs. He jumped right in, which was probably a miscalculation, seeing as he was immediately sent to the ground by a baseball bat. His head spun, and it took him a moment to regather his bearings.

"Eugene!"

Daryl appeared above him, grabbing his arm to pull him up.

"The fuck are you doin' here?" he demanded.

"Helping," Eugene replied dizzily.

"Yeah, gettin' your ass beat, that's real helpful…"

"Duck."

"Huh?"

"_Duck_!"

Daryl obeyed, narrowly avoiding a knife to the skull. The Wolf wasn't quite so lucky, as Eugene managed to bury the axe in their face.

"Shit," Daryl said. "Thanks."

On his feet again, Eugene tried to calculate the odds. He counted about twenty Wolves in the woods around them, all with varying weapons but no guns. The archers on the inside were sending Wolves down as fast they could scale the wall, so he wasn't particularly concerned there.

He was, however, a little concerned standing face to face with them on the ground.

His mind continued to race as the next opponent approached, expertly twirling a crowbar like he was auditioning for a flag team. The bar flashed but Eugene brought the axe up to meet it, tearing it from the man's grip.

"Ooh," he said, showing a crooked row of yellow teeth. "Clever little piggy."

Eugene took another swipe at him but the man dodged to the side, whacking Eugene in the stomach. He bent double, the air gusting out of him, but while he was down, he heaved the axe through one of the man's legs.

Blood splattered his face. One more strike of the axe cleaved the man's head in two.

He turned to the next nearest opponent, already winded but determined to keep going. The Wolves, however, were pausing to look behind them. Something roared through the woods in their direction. A truck. A familiar truck.

Everyone scattered as the truck bounced into their midst. It struck two Wolves, crushing one completely and rolling over another's legs. The rest of their enemies fled and the Alexandrians gave chase, taking out whoever they could. But the Wolves all scrambled in different directions and there was no way to catch them all. After a minute, Rick called everyone to a halt and they turned back for the Safe Zone.

Glenn and Beth waited for them, and the relief at having them back was palpable in the air. Rick led them inside to deliver their supplies to Denise—from the looks of it, they'd had tremendous luck at the hospital. Denise also set to work checking a set of wounds on Beth's back, which she ascertained were not life-threatening but definitely needed cleaning. Eugene took it upon himself to inventory what they'd scavenged, so he caught most of the story they recounted for Maggie and Rick.

He shuddered as they described the hospital, how it was essentially one big trap, and wondered at the fearsome potential of these Wolves.

And their leader. Someone had to be fielding these decisions, plotting these traps…

Once he had the whole story, Rick filled them in on the basics of what they'd missed—that they had a new ally, and that Eugene was making bullets in exchange for their aid—before excusing himself to check that everyone else was alright. No one had been terribly injured in this attack, and that seemed due in part to the Misfits. But Eugene knew the Wolves would be back, likely in greater number or with a more effective strategy.

"So this new ally, the…Kingdom?" Beth said and Eugene nodded. "What are they like?"

"They are…eccentric. But kind. And brave. Compassionate."

_Funny. Exceptional at fighting. Beautiful._

"I have had the privilege of spending a good portion of time with one of them. Their Champion. She is…" He trailed off, but Beth raised an eyebrow, filling in the blanks on her own.

"Someone you're interested in?"

"Well…I do like her, yes."

"Eugene, that's great! So she's the Champion? What does that mean? What does she do?"

"She is essentially the core protector of the Kingdom, aside from the King himself and the King's steward. By definition she is to defend the King's claim to the throne against any who would dispute it, although that does not appear to be a bone of contention with anyone."

_They want her gone instead, _he thought with a frown.

"Instead I believe she acts as spear point during any attack, and the muscle to scare off potential threats. Which I believe she easily could. She is a fearsome warrior."

Beth's eyes gleamed. "Cool. So what's her name?"

"Mason."

The gleam disappeared, and Beth sat up straighter. "…Mason?" she murmured.

Eugene drew back a little, the frown frozen on his face. "Yes…"

"Describe her to me." For some reason, her serious tone tied a knot in his stomach.

"She. Um. Short. Dark hair. Muscular." He struggled to detail her now, not because he couldn't, but because suddenly he wasn't too keen on Beth knowing. "Fights with a fire poker. Always—"

"Always listenin' to music? "

Eugene swallowed. "Yes."

Beth shook her head, eyes wide with disbelief. "It's her," she breathed, so low he thought perhaps she hadn't meant for anyone else to hear it.

He knew immediately who she meant. The girl she spent that month with back in Georgia, before they lost the prison. She'd told him and Daryl about her, but only briefly. Like she didn't want to share too much of it, like there were some things she wanted to keep all to herself.

But he knew that she had loved this girl, or at least felt _something _for her, and now…

"I want to meet her," Beth said. "I have to see… When are you meetin' up with her next?"

Eugene looked down at his hands. "As soon as possible, now the threat we foresaw with the Wolves has passed. Most likely I'll wait another day, just to be sure I'm not needed here."

_(Who would need you?)_

Beth nodded, eyes lit by a new gleam. Eugene wrung his hands and turned back to his inventory, but Beth had more questions, and there was nothing else but to answer them.

~m~

_Mason didn't stop screaming once her mother was dead. She scrambled back against the wall again, shaking so bad the whole room seemed to quiver, sucking in air between sobs. Her mother's blood covered her all the way to her elbows, it sat in ghastly polka dots on her face, and Will was dead, he was dead, and they were all going to die—_

"Mason!_" _

_She shook her head. They were gonna die, they were gonna die…_

_Someone grabbed her hair. Mason flailed, raising the crystal before realizing she must have dropped it or thrown it because it wasn't in her hand. She shrieked and kicked to free herself._

_Someone slapped her, hard. Gina's face swam into view, inches from her own, wild and furious. She forced one of Mason's hands open and pressed something inside it. The fire poker._

"_Fucking use this," she hissed, shaking Mason by her hair, "or I swear to god I'll kill you myself. Now get off your ass and fight!"_

_She whirled away before Mason could argue, hand bleeding around a large shard of glass she wielded as her new weapon. Mason stared after her a moment longer, chin trembling, half-blind by tears._

_Then the baby started screaming._

_Naomi had crawled to the furthest corner of the room and passed out there, too exhausted to keep her eyes open. Her arms remained cradled protectively around the baby, but it shrieked so loud there was no hope of keeping the dead away. Three of them advanced on Naomi and the child._

No.

_A quiet calm settled over Mason, or maybe she was just in shock. Either way, it brought her to her feet, stamping down the part of her that wanted to sit and cry and wait for death. She moved quickly despite the numbness, swinging the poker like a baseball bat._

_It felt right in her hands, like it was made for her._

_The three attackers could not stand against her hushed wrath. When they were dead, she fell to her knees at Naomi's side, shaking her by the shoulder._

"_Nomes, c'mon," she said. "You gotta wake up."_

_The baby wailed so loud Mason thought her ears might bleed._

"_This isn't gonna hold much longer!" Nick shouted, and she looked back to see him and the dresser wobble precariously under the weight of the dead. Fortunately they'd dispatched all of the dead inside the room. For now._

"_Fuck… Gina, help me!"_

_Gently, uncertainly, Mason took the baby from Naomi. She'd never held a baby before; she was surprised by how strong it felt as it wriggled in her arms._

_Gina appeared at her side, still fuming with battle rage._

"_Help me get Naomi on her feet," Mason said. "We can't stay here."_

_Gina scoffed. "Where the hell do you think we're gonna go?" But she reached for Naomi anyway. _

_Mason glanced out the window, unconsciously bouncing the baby, although probably too quickly to be soothing. It kept up its keening, anyway._

_The dead were clustered below, of course, thirty deep on this side of the house. But an idea occurred to Mason. She tore the sheets off her bed and hurriedly rolled them up, weighting them crystals and knickknacks. Then she held one arm out to Gina._

"_Cut me."_

_She paused with Naomi half-roused in her grip. "What?"_

"_Fucking cut me. I need blood."_

_Gina cleaned the dead residue from her glass shard and dragged it down Mason's arm, and when the blood began to flow, she held it to the sheets. She took care to soak it at regular intervals, so it was evenly dispersed. _

"_I'm gonna throw this down," she explained. "With any luck, it'll draw enough of them to make a gap and we can run for it."_

"_Ava…" _

_Naomi reached for Mason, who quickly realized she meant the baby. She hadn't told anyone the name she'd chosen until now. _

"_Let me…let me carry her."_

_Mason might've, except that Naomi could barely keep herself on her feet. Gina and Nick would have to carry her out the window. _

_They would have to leave Will there. She was trying very hard not to think of that._

"_I promise I will once we're away from these fuckers," Mason said. "Okay, but you're too weak right now."_

_Naomi whimpered but didn't argue. Gina secured an arm around her waist and glared at Mason._

"_Get on with it then."_

_It was difficult doing everything one-handed, but Mason managed. She cleared the rest of the broken glass from the window and leaned out, trying not to see any face too clearly as she lifted the bloody sheets and took aim. _

_She had only one shot, and even then it might not work. _

_The baby cried and tried to burrow into her chest._

_Mason tossed the sheet. It sailed to the left and landed a few yards from the window, right where she'd been aiming._

_Her heart leapt as the dead began clamoring for it. Not all of them, but enough that a tiny path cleared out beneath the window. _

_She turned back to wave at the others. "Okay, come on!" _

"_Go first," Naomi croaked. "Get my baby out of here."_

_So she did, doing everything she could to cushion her fall so that the baby wasn't jostled. The dead didn't seem too concerned with her in the moment, but the baby was still crying and her arm was still bleeding and she knew she had only seconds._

_She turned back to the window, where Gina leaned through. "Come on!" _

_But from the room, a crash so loud it flipped Mason's heart over twice. Groaning. Screaming. Gina turned, face contorting in a snarl, and disappeared. _

"_No!" Mason shouted without thinking. The dead began to turn. She was out of time._

_So she ran, and the baby squalled, and the world blurred with tears and terror as she left her friends behind._

~m~

"Hey, Mason? Got Charlie on the walkie just now. Alexandria's sending a group here today."

Mason perked up, abandoning the tea she was steeping. "Thanks, Jerry. Did she say anything about the Wolves?"

"She said they were attacked, but everyone's fine. And she did mention that a specific someone would be coming down with them." Jerry grinned. "You seem pretty excited. Any reason in particular?"

"Don't make me beat your ass."

"Relax, I'm just _tea_sing you."

"Ha! Good one."

She couldn't keep from grinning like a fool as she headed for the gate. She hadn't told anyone, but she'd decided…well, she'd decided a lot of things. She'd decided that the world was dangerous, and that investing your emotions in a relationship, in a person you could lose, was incredibly stupid and reckless. She'd decided she had enough shit to worry about right now.

Most of all, she'd decided she wanted Eugene enough to take the risk. And it was possible he wouldn't feel the same. It was possible that even if he did, it wouldn't work out, or one of them could…

Well. She was well aware of what could happen.

But she had to take a chance on something sometime. And nothing had seemed quite worth it until he came around.

Her heart thundered as she paced by the gate, ignoring the confused and disapproving looks of those on watch. She couldn't remember feeling quite so jittery in her life and wondered if she might end up having a heart attack before they arrived.

"Car approaching!" Tina called from her watch post. Mason's whole body flooded with something that was either anticipation or utter panic.

She was the first one through the gate when they opened it. Rick exited the car, and then Daryl. She greeted them both, hoping she didn't appear too keyed up.

"How is everyone?" she asked. "I heard you got that attack you were expecting."

"Yeah, lucky us," Rick replied. "We're all fine. We came to discuss the deal further with your King." Likely Eugene had already told him what Mason had admitted; she wondered if that would come up, too.

"Oh, yeah, of course. He's—"

One of the back doors opened and Eugene stepped out. Mason broke into a huge grin.

"He's, um, waiting for you guys. I'll take you there in a sec."

Before she considered that maybe she should rein herself in, she started running. Eugene's face was dark with something she couldn't identify, but when he saw her, he smiled, too, like he couldn't help it.

He held his arms out and she leapt into them, hard enough that he staggered back. They spun in a small circle, laughing.

"Hi," she said.

"Howdy," he replied.

"How are you doing? You didn't get hurt in the attack, did you?"

"Minor injuries is all."

"You fought, didn't you?"

"That I did."

"Okay, I'm a little mad, but also: that's my badass scientist!"

He snorted and set her down. "And how were things here?"

_Long. Boring. I missed you a lot._

"Fine. But, um, there's actually something I wanted to talk to you about."

Her heart thrummed so fast it felt like one sustained beat. Her stomach turned, and she had to remind herself that puking on someone's shoes wasn't a universally accepted courting ritual.

"Of course, ma'am. But just so you are aware, there is, um…someone here who wants to meet you."

"Oh. Yeah, okay."

The other car door opened, but Mason was still looking at Eugene, trying to get her phrasing right.

"So. Uh, yeah, so, I've been thinking… Um. Sorry, I'm a little short on words today. Ha, get it? Cuz I'm short."

_Welp. Not the smoothest, but we persevere. _

"Anyway, so I've been thinking…that maybe—"

But it was then that she saw who stepped out of the car, and the words dried up in her throat.

She was back in that forest in Georgia, back in that shoddy bus with the smell of smoke and elderberries. Back with the girl she'd left behind.

She took an uneven breath.

"Beth?"

**A/N: Just real quick, next chapter will be the first interlude, and is also an entire flashback. Hope that doesn't bug y'all! But anyway, thanks so much for reading. Until next time xoxo**


	7. Running Scared (Desert Song)

**A/N: Hello, all! So we're back with another long chapter and I'm beginning to wonder if I have any self-control at all lol Anyway, this is the first interim chapter, and it's way longer than the interims in my previous story. Mostly because I'm a poor planner, and when I decided not to write the entire prequel story I had planned, it left me with a lot of explaining to do in-story. Which is fine, I just hope it's enjoyable. The chapter song is "Running Scared (Desert Song)" by The Strumbellas and it's great. The actual chapter has a lot of callbacks to the old series because, as I mentioned before, I have very little self-control. (Then again, it will have something to do with the plot later on, so...) Big thanks to you guys for reading and reviewing, I always appreciate it! **

7\. First Interim, pt. 1: Running Scared (Desert Song)

Music was the way back.

It took her a minute to figure out how to hotwire the car. Adrenaline had flickered out a while ago but panic had taken the reins, a clumsy but long-burning fuel. Ava slept fitfully in the passenger seat while she worked, apparently exhausted from all the crying.

When the car was running, she quickly arranged Ava as securely as she could. She'd only had time to scavenge haphazardly from the cars near this one. The coats and shirts, she bundled around Ava in lieu of a car seat. The cotton cut from a headrest, she placed against Ava's ears and secured with a headband. And the CD, she popped into the player, rolled the windows down and turned the volume up.

She drove slow, resisting the urge to gun it when she spotted the herd. They blocked her off from the street her house was on, so she went down a parallel street and watched as they oozed out of the alleys between houses.

Terror kicked her pulse up a notch, but she swallowed it down and leaned out her window.

"Come on, assholes!" she hollered, pounding the side of the car with her palm. "Come and get me!"

At least a hundred followed. It wasn't all of them, but she thought maybe it was enough. When she was a good distance away, she turned the volume off and pressed down on the gas, losing them quickly through various turns. Only now in the quiet did Mason realize Ava was crying again; the makeshift earmuffs might have dampened the sound, but only by so much.

"Sorry," she muttered.

There were even less of the dead surrounding her house than she expected, and when she pulled around front, she saw why.

Someone had made a run for it through the front door.

They'd left behind little more than a puddle.

Mason stopped the car, leaned out the window and vomited.

She'd recovered by the time the dead surrounded the car, or at least her stomach had. Numbly, she rolled her window up except for a sliver and picked them off one by one through the gap.

Night fell. Ava continued to wail, but Mason didn't know what to do for her. In any case, she couldn't stop mechanically skewering the dead with her poker.

Fight, Gina had said. But what was there to fight for? Why should she?

The baby, she supposed, although…

_She's just going to die, too._

Mason was going to get her killed. Just like Will. Just like Nick and Gina and Naomi, who got all of five minutes to hold her own baby before…

_Don't. Don't cry. You don't fucking deserve to._

It took everything she had simply to exit the car. Her whole body felt useless, and it certainly didn't help that the bodies were piled so high outside her door it was like pushing through mud.

"Okay," she said and gently picked up Ava, clothing nest and all. "We're gonna…we're gonna try for the truck, alright?"

Ava whimpered. Was she weaker now? Fresh panic flooded Mason's chest.

"It's okay. We're gonna get to the truck, I promise. There's formula there."

Holding Ava securely against her chest, she raced for the truck, but there didn't seem to be a need. From the sound of it, the remaining dead lingered at the back of the house, or had already wandered elsewhere.

Mason set Ava in the cab of the truck before climbing into the bed to rummage for formula and water. Everything was crammed together, and it seemed to take an eternity before she finally found it.

"Okay. Um. Shit." It was supposed to be warm, right? Well, the water was already lukewarm, that would have to do. She mixed it up quick, held it under her arm in a last-ditch effort to warm it, then took it back out in aggravation.

She wasn't sure how to hold Ava to feed her. She tried to remember seeing people in movies feeding babies but her mind was a blank. All she could see was her mother's skull, mangled on the floor, Naomi reaching weakly for her baby, Will's blood soaking the carpet…

"Come on, come on," she said, pressing the nipple to Ava's lips, who didn't want anything to do with it. "Work with me, dude."

But Ava refused the bottle, and Mason's frustration grew in her throat like a tumor, like a flood, and her eyes blurred, and…and…

"Come—come on, man," she sobbed.

A tear landed on Ava's cheek, and she flinched with a shriek.

"I'm sorry."

She couldn't hold herself together anymore. She couldn't.

"I'm sorry."

Mason doubled over, shaking with grief, and the tears flowed whether she deserved them or not.

"_I'm sorry, I'm sorry_."

She wasn't sure how long she hovered there over Ava, offering her formula between bouts of sobs, but it shocked her enough when Ava finally accepted the bottle that she nearly dropped it.

"Holy shit," she breathed.

Ava's face remained pinched with discontent, but she suckled greedily. Mason coughed—she didn't think she was capable of laughing anymore—and wiped her tear-bloated face.

"Yeah, that's it," she said. "See what happens when we work together?"

Ava eyed her with what Mason imagined was resentment, and drank until the bottle was empty.

~m~

She went back into the house. She told herself it was just to scavenge but that wasn't the truth. Ava slept in her arms, swaddled securely in a large t-shirt, because Mason was afraid to leave her in the truck by herself.

A handful of the dead wandered about. Luckily the fire poker enabled her to keep her distance.

Her bedroom looked like a scene out of _A Nightmare on Elm Street_. She couldn't help paying close attention to the bodies on the floor, the bloody handprints on the walls, the red smearing her childhood out of existence.

Will's body was gone. She trembled and wished for numbness.

There was nothing to take that wasn't tainted with blood, so she moved on to her mother's room.

Empty cans and dirty clothes lay strewn on the floor. Mason surmised they must have camped out in here while the outside world collapsed.

Her mother's clothes still smelled like her perfume. Tears ran quietly down her face as she rummaged through the closet, remembering how she used to hide in there as a kid, pretending she was lost in a jungle, how her mother would sometimes jump inside to surprise her, acting the part of a tiger or dinosaur.

She ripped the sheets from the bed, and after a moment's hesitation, the pillows, too.

Something crinkled in one of them.

Blinking, she dug into the pillowcase and pulled out a sheet of notebook paper. The handwriting was small and clumsy, trying to be the big bubble letters she remembered the other girls writing with. But her handwriting was never cute; Mason wrote too quickly for that, scared her thoughts would float out of reach before she could get them on the page.

It was a poem. Just a dumb little thing she scribbled out in math class when she was supposed to be learning exponents. It wasn't happy, and not all that well-written. An unintelligible story about a wooden cross on a beach, and purple flowers. A man emerging from the sand, reaching for a woman dissolving into the stars. It wasn't even finished, hanging open-ended on the word "waiting".

Her mother had kept it all these years. She'd slept with it under her pillow.

The world shook, so fast her vision blurred.

No.

That was her.

She couldn't get air into her lungs fast enough. She couldn't see for tears. There was a knot in her chest, pulling tighter, the way it felt when a joint needed to pop but refused.

_I'm having a heart attack, _she thought, stumbling for the door, but her heart continued to beat, albeit at a gallop.

She didn't take anything. She left everything behind for the dead. She got in the truck and waited for her breath to come back, and then she started driving.

~m~

Smoke roused her from the void. Around her, the blinding blue of a vast sky, and the dazzling, equally vast desert. From the hood, white, sweet-smelling fumes. Something stirred in her chest. Something more than emotionless continuation.

"No," she croaked. She hadn't spoken in…how long had it been since leaving her house? It looked like she was somewhere in Nevada, so probably two days. It didn't help that she'd been limiting her water, saving it for Ava's formula.

She pulled to the side of the highway and hopped out, leaving Ava asleep in her car seat. Mason had scavenged it somewhere in…well, she wasn't quite sure. There were mountains. Maybe Colorado.

The truck belched smoke when she popped the hood, choking her. Everything was too hot to touch, but she figured it wasn't cooling off anytime soon under the ruthless sun. She wrapped her hand in an old shirt and checked the oil first. She didn't know a whole lot about cars, but she did know it wasn't supposed to be this grimy shade of brown.

"Fuck…"

Even with the shirt, the heat bled through to her fingertips as she unscrewed the coolant cap. The reservoir was completely empty.

"_Fuck_!"

She'd been so concerned with keeping gas in the tank, she hadn't thought to check the other fluids.

"Son of a _cunt_!"

She kicked the front bumper so hard she sent herself sailing back on her ass.

The pavement seared her hands but still she sat there, listening to the tremendous silence and trying to reorient herself. It felt like waking up from an unexpected nap and not knowing if it was dawn or dusk.

When had she decided to come back this way? Or had she even decided anything? Once she left her house, it was like she went on autopilot. Drive, feed Ava every two hours, change her every three, siphon gas, keep driving. She hadn't thought of anything other than the barest essentials.

Well, she was here now. The truck was dead and there was nothing around them for miles. May as well keep heading west.

_There's nothing there for you._

California was a big state. She only knew of the L.A. area, which…yeah. There was nothing there but the dead at this point. But there had to be something else, somewhere to hole up.

_What about the others?_

The Misfits and their families were long gone. There hadn't been any sign of them during her frantic search for a car, or when she'd gone back to the house. And they only would have left if they thought she and her group were dead.

_You can't go back._

She didn't know exactly what she meant by that, but she didn't think she was wrong.

~m~

When the sun went down, she gathered all she could carry on her back, tucked Ava into the makeshift sling across her chest, and followed the highway. There was no moon, only stars. She could've convinced herself they were the last two humans left.

She hoped to come across something by daybreak. There was nothing. She built a tiny shelter out of their possessions for Ava to lie in, covered herself as much as she could, and tried to doze off. But Ava woke every few hours needing to be fed or changed, so by the time dusk rolled around, Mason felt raw and nauseous from lack of sleep.

The next day was the same, and the next. She came across a few cars stranded on the highway, but none that ran or had enough gas to really get her anywhere. She came across a gas station, but it had been closed for several years and held nothing within but rags and dirt and the skeleton of a coyote. Without a map, there was no way to know how much further she had to go to reach…anything.

She drank little and ate even less, mostly because she'd packed very little food to make room for formula. She didn't even dare listen to her iPod because she couldn't bear to let the battery wear down.

Exhaustion and bleakness dogged her every step. Ava seemed alright, but obviously that was entirely dependent on Mason's survival.

How the fuck was she going to survive out here?

~m~

She started singing.

Fourth night, or possibly fifth.

At first it was just her lips moving, but then her voice caught up. Deep. Strengthening. It built like a dust storm, little imperfections purifying in the fire she kindled in her belly. Ava, who had been fussing, quieted.

She couldn't explain why she did it. She thought she had reached some instinct beyond the primal machinations of survival. Maybe she was just going crazy. Either way, Ava seemed content. She stared up at Mason, sucking on her fist and making little noises that thankfully did not resemble crying.

She sang everything that came to mind. Nothing stirred in the desert around them, no predators, living or dead. She sang louder than her weakened body could bear, until she was stumbling, weaving back and forth along the highway.

That was how she found the box, staggering clear off the shoulder of the road. The toe of her boot caught the corner of it, which startled her so bad she jumped back. Her head whipped from side to side, instantly alert, but there was nothing around but the box and the speed limit sign it sat against.

There was a piece of paper taped to the front. It rustled in the gentle breeze as she knelt to examine it.

"Take what you need, leave what you can," it read.

Blinking, she peeked inside. Clothes, canned foods, a scattering of knives, books, a belt, two jugs of water…

Someone had just…left this stuff. For someone else to have. Even after everything, even after the riots, and the grid going down, even with supplies as scarce as they were.

"Whoa," she breathed. "Look at that, baby girl."

Ava was asleep, but Mason thought she would've been shocked, as well.

As she was looking up from the impossible offerings, she spotted it. A glowing in the distance. Was it…car lights? Flashlights? She didn't think it was either, but couldn't figure what it would be otherwise.

She scavenged the box first, though her first instinct was just to take the whole thing. But someone had left this here for everyone. Two cans of peaches, two cans of tuna, a worn map, a jug of water, and a pocketknife with a pearl handle. That was all she took. Then she followed the strange lights off the highway and into the scrubland.

The glowing unfolded as she approached, separating into distinct but unbelievable shapes.

Cars, sticking out of the ground, like they were growing there. There were probably a dozen of them, spaced out at intervals, each one covered in glow-in-the-dark paint. Three other cars sat among them, parked like normal, but they, too, were adorned in this neon graffiti.

"_Whoa_…" Mason breathed, pacing slowly among them. Much of the graffiti meant nothing to her, names and phrases that held significance in someone else's story, and still it filled her like the first breath of spring. And some of it…

A painting of a water tower, and across its tank: "Wait. Wait. Wait."

A skeleton hand bursting from a grave, entwined with vines and flowers, and this: "If they no longer exist to feel loss, then I shall feel it for them."

A WALK signal, with words ringed around it like sun rays: "I don't have to keep trying. Remember that, I say to myself, as I keep trying."

She found herself at one of the parked cars, and her eye caught on the glint of keys hanging in the ignition. She didn't figure it would start, but just on the off chance, she reached through the open window and turned the key.

The car rumbled to life. Mason let out a startled hoot of laughter.

"Holy—"

A hand grabbed her from the back seat, wrinkled with decay. The dusty, brittle body rose slowly, gnashing teeth that seemed larger in its shrunken mouth.

"—_shit_!"

Mason fell back, one hand automatically reaching up to cradle Ava, and so her tailbone took most of the impact. The body didn't come after her, however. Its arm hung limply over the headrest, fingers moving in listless rhythm.

Ava whimpered. Mason rubbed her back soothingly.

"It's okay. It's just one."

Retrieving her iron from the assemblage of supplies on her back, she approached the body. She couldn't understand what it was doing out here in a car with an almost full tank of gas and no visible bite marks, until she found the note, stuffed in an empty pill bottle.

"I am no one now, and I went out on my own terms," it read.

Shock rooted her to the spot. Not the suicide. She'd tried—

_Don't think about that._

It was the body. It was the bite marks, or lack of. It was the fact that they'd popped a bunch of pills and died and come back anyway.

What would happen if Mason took the same route? What if she ran the fire iron through her heart right now; would she come back?

_Don't think about it._

She was alive for now, and had no plans _not_ to be for the immediate future. She met the gaze of the weltered corpse.

"Sorry you felt like you had to do this, dude," she said. "But thanks for the car." Then she drove her poker through its skull.

~m~

The idea came to her while she was sitting against a half-buried Cadillac, reading Naomi's baby book and trying not to think too hard about certain things. It was almost noon, but Ava had needed feeding and Mason some rest. To shield them from the sun, she'd tied what clothes she could from car to car, tenting off a bit of shade. She planned on heading out soon, but…

The box.

"Take what you need, leave what you can," she whispered.

Here among the beauty and the color…wouldn't this be a better place for it? She'd been drawn here like a moth to light. She probably would've spotted it from further out if she'd been paying attention and not slowly losing her mind.

Maybe she just needed other people to see this place. To know.

There was black and blue spray paint in the backseat of another parked car, amid a pile of beer bottles and empty tins of glow-in-the-dark colors. She took them both, and an armful of bottles, to the speed limit sign.

Using the spray paint reminded her of the times the Misfits would take her out tagging. Dray and Ashlee were always the best. Renee and Tanner played tetris with each others' designs. Lily and Dave ate junk food and watched for cops. Mason and Charlie always resorted to drawing dicks.

She missed them so bad.

When she was done, the sign no longer advised on speed limit. It was completely black, except in the center, where she'd written "OASIS" in blue and an arrow pointing where to go. Beer bottles hung down like wind chimes, gently clinking each other.

This would catch peoples' attention in the day. The cars would catch their attention at night. Smiling, Mason carried the box of supplies to the oasis. She felt lighter now than she had in days. The depression still clung to her, as it had since long before the Turn, and the fear, but she felt like maybe there was a chance. For something else, something better.

Once all her supplies were loaded in the corpse's car, she looked at Ava, swaddled in the passenger seat.

"Alright. We'll make a pit stop at the truck and grab the rest of our shit. Definitely your car seat. I don't want you thinking you can live the reckless life straight out the gate," she said. "But after that, where to? We're close to Cali, but…I don't think I wanna go back there."

But she already knew where she was going. The same place she was already headed. And, yeah, it was just her and Ava now, and she had absolutely no idea how she was going to tell the Misfits what happened. How she'd failed them.

She flinched from the thought. "I can worry about that later," she said. "How do you feel about Virginia, baby girl? All your family will be there. They'll be so excited to meet you."

Virginia, where Renee's estranged uncle lived in a house built into the mountains. Where he had stores and stores of supplies. Where the Misfits and their families had placed all their hopes, despite the perils of the journey.

She couldn't give up on them. Ava deserved a chance at a life, at a family; she couldn't give up on her, either.

_(You don't deserve that.)_

Stifling a pain in her chest, she nodded and started the car. "Virginia it is."

~m~

Virginia was a long fucking way away.

The map she took from the box got her out of the desert, but beyond Nevada it was completely useless. She scrounged up a road atlas in New Mexico, outlining the most direct route in red ink. It looked simple on paper.

It was not simple.

She crossed the border into Texas around midnight. The moon was hiding behind a veil of clouds, so she didn't see the men until they started shooting.

Bullets showered the car. The front passenger window cracked. And then a boom as the rear tire blew.

"Shit!"

She took her foot off the gas, knuckles white on the steering wheel. Ava wailed, and though her voice shook, Mason automatically began singing to soothe her.

In the rearview mirror, she spotted the vague silhouettes of men rising from the grass on either side of the highway. It was hard to tell; she thought there were at least five.

Her mind raced. There was no cover on either side; she'd been driving through treeless prairie for hours now. She might've risked making a run for it if it were just her. But she couldn't just surrender herself to these men, either.

"Get out of the car," one of them shouted.

From what she could see, two of them carried assault rifles. The rest held simple handguns. If she could get a hold of one of those rifles…

Heart thundering, she reached for her pocketknife, flipping the blade out and shoving it up her sleeve. The tip pricked her skin but she held it there, just balanced on the verge of sliding out. It was a risky play. She had never been the best liar, but there didn't seem to be any other options. She opened the door and stumbled out into the night.

"Hands up, asshole!" the man shouted, rifle aimed.

She lifted her hands but continued to stagger, letting out a groan. "Please…you shot me…please…"

"Stop right there," the man ordered, but she risked a few steps closer. She didn't want them anywhere near Ava.

"Help me," she said. "Please." Then she collapsed, face up so she could act quickly.

The man with the rifle knelt above her. "We'll help you, alright," he said. "We'll help you outta whatever you got in that truck, and then we'll help you outta those clothes."

Her stomach turned. The other men approached her car, peering into the backseat where Ava cried. She knew she had only one chance to do this.

The man looked away from her for a split second, opening his mouth to say something. It was his mistake.

Mason flicked her wrist. The knife slid out. She drove it through the man's throat before he could utter a word. Blood showered her face and she struggled to breathe. She grabbed his gun and rolled to her feet, spitting red.

"Get away from the car," she growled.

The men paused. She felt the heat of four guns trained on her.

"Easy now," a bald man said. "That thing's dangerous. You don't want to hurt yourself, do you?"

"No," Mason said. "But I'm alright with hurting you."

His lips thinned, but a younger man stepped forward. He was handsome and earnest and she didn't trust him; he had the look of someone who was used to getting whatever he wanted.

"C'mon, don't be like that," he said. "We didn't know it was you in there. We're not in the habit of shooting at women. Now why don't you put the gun down. You can come with us. We'll take care of you."

Mason aimed the rifle at his head. "I don't need you to take care of me. Get the fuck away from my car."

"Look, sugar, I know you're frightened. These are dangerous times we're living in, but I give you my word, we are truly sorry about this mess. If you give us the chance, we'll make up for it."

She wouldn't be fooled by his genuine tone. She remembered what his buddy said.

_We'll help you outta whatever you got in that truck, and then we'll help you outta those clothes._

Instead, she cocked an eyebrow. "Call me sugar again."

His charming demeanor faltered. His whole face went ugly and cold.

"Alright," he said. "You're not a team player. That's fine. You don't have to be."

She fired at the same time he did, and the men barely had time to react as she deluged them with bullets. The rifle was fully automatic. All she had to do was hold down the trigger and turn, lowering the barrel to avoid hitting the car. But there was a screaming in her brain that drowned the rapid fire, the thud of their bodies hitting the ground. It took her a moment to register the empty click, that the magazine was empty and the men were dead. And then another to notice the sticky wetness rolling down her arm.

She'd been shot. No, not shot. It looked like the bullet just grazed her. She watched the blood trickle all the way to her hand.

She'd killed those men.

_They were bad men._

They were. She didn't feel bad about that. She would've killed them again if she had to. That wasn't the issue.

She'd killed the undead. She'd never ended a real life before. Logically she knew she had that potential, but…it was strange actually _doing _it. She found herself stepping lightly as she approached the car, like the weight of her existence might bring the whole world down.

Ava was screaming her head off, but Mason hesitated picking her up. What if she hurt her? One wrong move, and she could accidentally—

_Stop. You've been taking care of her this whole time. Get it together._

A buzz of anxiety lit her veins as she scooped Ava up. But the bawling quieted to whimpers as soon as she was in Mason's arms.

"It's okay, baby girl," Mason murmured. She was crying, too. She hadn't realized it. "We're okay now. We're gonna be okay."

~m~

Mason lost track of time, but she was fairly certain the weeks were turning into months. She'd passed through Texas and made it to the Oklahoma-Arkansas border, all on foot.

It seemed everything was conspiring to keep her from Virginia.

Keeping Ava and herself fed and hydrated was a daily battle. She'd taken all she could carry that night after the men attacked her, including their weapons, but the water ran out first and the food quickly followed. Not to mention diapers, which were surprisingly easy to find but a bitch to transport with as many as Ava went through. She used up nearly all her ammo before she realized knives worked just as well when taking down the dead.

Finding transportation was impossible. The cars she came across that were easily accessible were also bone-dry or completely wrecked. Whenever she saw one that looked to have any potential, they were always accompanied by people. And people, she'd recently decided, were better glimpsed at a distance.

But she kept singing for Ava. Kept walking for the Misfits. She put on little plays for Ava with whatever toys she could scavenge. She read and reread Naomi's baby book; she'd written a bunch of extra shit in the margins, and thank the maker for that.

She was doing just that tonight, though it was mostly to lull herself to sleep. The fire had died so low she could barely discern the words, and her eyes drifted up to the stars, peeking between the branches of the scraggly tree she'd chosen to camp under.

The barest shift caught her eye, near the nest of clothes and blankets she'd made for Ava. Usually she tried to find a box to use as a makeshift crib, but today they'd been lucky to find a safe place to rest. She squinted, half-asleep, trying to place the strange movement. But as it slithered closer to Ava, her heart seized.

A snake. A fucking snake.

Mason moved instinctively, scrambling partially through embers to kick the creature away. It coiled around her ankle, and there was a brief pinprick of pain before she shook it off. It slithered away before she could kill it.

She hovered over Ava, who fussed while she checked frantically for bite marks. Only when she found none did she remember the sting in her own leg and looked down to see the skin above her ankle swelling around two distinct puncture wounds.

"Oh, fuck."

"Let me see."

Mason nearly jumped out of her skin. Her hand darted for the fire iron.

"Hey, it's alright." A woman stepped out from the shadows, hands up. "I ain't fixin' to do you any harm, but you should probably let me take a look at that. Quickly."

Mason angled herself between the woman and Ava, but the pain in her ankle was growing. She could almost feel the venom twisting its way up her veins, quickened by her fearful pulse.

"C'mon. I've handled snake bites before," the woman said. "You should be fine, but only if you treat it immediately."

Mason deliberated, examining the stranger. Curly brown hair framed a face that appeared bright and earnest, and as far as Mason could tell, she had no weapons on her except the knife on her belt. Of course, there was no way to know for sure she could trust this woman, but…

She couldn't leave Ava alone in the world…

"Fine," she growled. "But that's it, alright?"

The woman shrugged out of her shirt and sat down, lifting Mason's leg into her lap. She wrapped the shirt around Mason's knee, efficiently tapering down to the bite, like she did this every day.

"It was probably a copperhead," the woman said. "Obviously they're venomous, but they're not usually fatal. It'll just hurt and might make you sick a few days."

"You a snake charmer or something?" Mason said, trying to sound gruff.

The woman laughed prettily. "No. Not snakes. But I've been told I'm pretty charmin' otherwise. So what's your name? You can call me Coyote."

Mason raised an eyebrow. Coyote laughed again.

"That ain't my Christian name, but I like it better."

"Well, I guess you can call me Snake Bite, then," Mason muttered, hands clenching in time with her throbbing ankle.

"You're funny. Now sit up. We need to keep your heart above the wound."

Mason obeyed, glancing at Ava, who was thankfully still sleeping but would probably need to be fed in an hour or so.

"What now?"

"Well, ain't no hospitals around to treat you with antivenom, but I got a good look at the bite. I have a feeling it's semi-dry."

"…Meaning?"

"It didn't inject a lot of venom. Even if it did, there's not much to do but wait. You just have to let it pass through your system. Best thing is to keep hydrated, but I got plenty of water. You'll be just fine."

Mason narrowed her eyes. "You sound real confident about that."

Coyote winked. "I'm a confident gal."

~m~

The first two days were hell. Mason was already so weary from the journey, the venom took hold of her and shook her like a ragdoll. The world became a whirl of sweat and vomit and aching. Sleep was her only respite, though even that was fitful. Coyote took over most of the duties with Ava, which Mason appreciated, but it still made her anxious to be unconscious for any of them.

Terrible nightmares plagued her. She dreamed of people dancing around her in the dark, wearing the faces of animals, eyes bloody and moon-wide. Sometimes she woke before they reached her. Sometimes they grabbed her and threw her on a fire, and they hooted like wild dogs as she turned to ash.

But one night, in the middle of this burning, she heard a voice. Just a barest whisper, she couldn't make out who it might be, but it soothed her instantly. Her body relaxed, and suddenly it wasn't flames around her but the ocean, and stars.

"Come home, May," the voice whispered, and it didn't make sense, but it filled her with peace anyway.

She awoke that third morning, startled by the absence of misery. It was like the venom had just…dropped off. Her eyes immediately darted to Ava, asleep in a box Coyote had brought back from her own camp.

Her own camp. Mason had been too ill to question her much about that, but today was as good as any.

"Hey, you look better," Coyote said, looking up from a campfire over which she was cooking a handful of small eggs.

"I feel better," Mason replied and nodded toward Ava. "Thanks for taking care of her while I was puking my guts out."

"Of course. Children are our future, right?"

"Um, right. So the other day, you mentioned you had a camp…?"

"I do, yes, but I'm afraid I can't take you there just yet."

Mason frowned. "Why not? Wouldn't I heal up better somewhere safer?"

Coyote didn't answer. She licked her lips, hovering over the eggs like a hungry cat. "Eggs are my favorite, you know. Sometimes I just eat eggs for every meal of the day. Well, back when they were easier to come by. I miss grocery stores."

Mason stifled an irritable twinge. "Yeah, me, too. Why can't we go to your camp? I'm not…"

Dangerous, she was going to say. But she was.

"I'm not planning on hurting you or anyone you're with," she said. "Especially since you helped me. So—"

"We gotta make sure you're all healed up first," Coyote cut in, a new edge to her cheerful voice. "Can't have you dyin' in the middle of camp. Then it wouldn't matter whether you intended to hurt us or not."

Mason stilled. "What do you mean?" But in the back of her mind, she saw that corpse at the Oasis. No bite marks.

Coyote's eyes widened. "You don't know? When you die, you turn. Even if you ain't bit. We're all infected by whatever this is."

Horror slid into her belly, but a part of her wasn't surprised. She nodded slowly.

"Well, that's…a bit of a bummer."

"It's alright once you get used to it. We still take precautions, though. If someone dies, we always like to know exactly where they are. Drink your water. You gotta stay hydrated."

~m~

She was getting real sick of lying in the same spot all day, and even sicker of the strange way Coyote treated her. The cryptic comments she made, doting on her in tones too saccharine to believe. But if she had ulterior motives, Mason couldn't figure out what they might be. She seemed devoted to helping her and Ava, though…

Mason didn't like the way she looked at Ava. With intensity, reverence, like she was some kind of golden calf. But perhaps Mason was just being paranoid. Perhaps Coyote was just an oddball who wished she had kids of her own. Plus, she couldn't deny it was nice to have company that didn't have to scream her head off to communicate.

"How ya feelin'?" Coyote asked on the sixth evening, as she always did after dinner.

Whoever she was with, there were enough of them that they didn't seem to be hurting for food. Mason was fairly certain Coyote went back to them whenever Mason was asleep to replenish supplies, and she might've resolved to follow her, but she'd have to bring Ava, who couldn't exactly be trusted as a spy.

"Really good," Mason said, and she did. There was a faint headache that persisted, and sometimes if she let her belly get too empty, the nausea returned. But overall, she was healing up nicely.

Coyote's eyes gleamed. "Yeah? That's great! I knew you'd be a strong one the minute I saw you. And so brave, too, puttin' yourself in harm's way for the little darling. That's what I told Our Great Keeper, because he's very choosy, you know, about who we recruit."

Mason stared, one hand hovering over her water bottle. _Our Great Keeper?_

"But I described you to him, and I said I had a feelin', this divine _somethin'_, yes, tellin' me you were a real prize." Coyote nodded zealously. "I won him over, obviously. That's why he let me give you copperhead. I wanted to test you, but I also wanted you to survive."

Realization dawned on Mason like a final shadow eclipsing the moon. Her stomach churned, though not from the aftereffects of the venom.

A twig cracked behind her. She jumped, placing herself near Ava's makeshift crib. Two figures appeared from the twilight haze on either side, hoods drawn up over their heads so that their faces were in shadow.

"Oh, no, no." Coyote reached out like she might embrace Mason. "Don't be afraid. Nature willed you to survive. There is nothing for you to fear anymore. You can join us."

"And what if I say no?" Mason drew her fire poker up, comforted by its familiar weight, though she found herself wishing for that automatic rifle. Her heart hammered in her throat. She tasted bile at the back of her tongue.

"Why would you say no? We can offer you security and companionship. _Family_. I kinda broke the rules for you, that's how much I think you'd fit in here. I wasn't supposed to help you quite so much. But we're all human."

"You—you fucking _poisoned _me. You put a snake in my camp, you could've _killed Ava_!"

The rage built fast, a frightening pressure threatening to crack her ribs. She trembled with it.

"It's okay," Coyote said. "If she's anything like you, she'll survive, too."

The tiniest twitch was her only warning. The shadow on her left, moving quickly. She raised her iron, and it sank deep in something, but she couldn't be sure what. A boot swung heavily into her chin. She thought it was probably meant for her head, but she'd moved enough that it missed.

Still, the force sent her tumbling to the side, and Coyote was on her before she could recover. She straddled Mason's waist, pinning her arms to the dirt.

"Hold still. You'll wanna see this."

The other shadow was approaching Ava's box, holding a length of rope.

No. Not rope. A snake. A big, wicked-looking one; its tail lashed, emitting an ominous rattle.

Panic stole the breath from Mason's lungs. "Get away from her," she choked out.

"Nature is reclaiming the world," Coyote said. "The risen dead are just the start. We are subject to its will, and only those that can serve that will are allowed to go on."

The figure knelt before Ava's crib. Violence flooded Mason's veins.

"_Get away from her_!"

She twisted, one leg hitching around Coyote's knee to knock her off balance, and slammed her elbow into Coyote's face. Freed, Mason surged to her feet and barreled into the figure, grabbing their wrist so the snake wouldn't go flying.

They landed in a heap a few feet from Ava's crib. The rattlesnake lay half-pinned under the figure's arm. Seething, Mason grabbed them by the back of the neck and shoved their face within striking distance.

The snake took the bait, injured and pissed off as it was. It struck twice, and the figure screamed, bucking Mason off.

Fury sent her straight back to her feet, this time toward the other figure. A man; his hood had fallen down in their earlier scuffle. He was clutching his thigh, bleeding from the puncture wound her iron had left.

She didn't bother picking up her weapon. She launched herself at him, hands wrapping around his throat. He struggled, kicking his legs and beating at her arms, but she held on tight, digging her nails in until blood beaded out.

She held on until his body slumped, eyes glazing. Then she whipped her head around, teeth bared in a snarl, searching for any sign of Coyote.

But she was gone. Escaped while Mason was otherwise occupied. The snake, too, had made its escape. Only the other figure remained, hands clapped against their face, sniveling as they rolling from side to side on the ground.

Mason retrieved her iron and strode toward them. She propped one foot on their chest, pressing them into the ground.

"Hold still," she growled, and ignored their pleas as she drove the poker through their head.

She might've stood there forever, frozen as the rage and adrenaline drained all the way to her feet, left cold in the absence, if Ava hadn't stirred.

Mason staggered over and collapsed next to her crib. "Baby girl," she croaked. "Are you okay?"

She leaned in closer to ascertain Ava hadn't been harmed in the scuffle, running one hand over her wispy black hair. As she did, Ava blinked and smiled, letting out a happy gurgle.

Mason huffed a laugh, or maybe it was a sob. It was Ava's first smile. Her first real smile, in the middle of all this.

"C'mere, baby girl," she mumbled, cradling Ava in her arms. She swayed gently back and forth, placing a kiss on Ava's head. "That's my pretty girl."

It took her a while. But holding Ava kept her from disintegrating completely.

"We can't stay here," she said eventually. Her voice was unrecognizable. She wondered if she'd know herself in a reflection. But they couldn't stay. Coyote and her people could be back here any minute.

And so, once again, Mason gathered up all she could carry, tucked Ava into her sling, and started walking.

~m~

Sometimes she stopped. She didn't count the days anymore, but it was harder to ignore the seasons. She made her home in the gutted remains of convenience stores and on rooftop terraces, sometimes for entire seasons, sometimes just for portions of those. When it was time to move on, she didn't try for another car. She just walked.

Ava grew. Babies changed a lot in a short amount of time, Mason learned, and she found that each transition left her feeling both sad and proud. Soon Ava was walking on her own, and spouting babble that Mason learned to interpret ("oh chit" were her first words, in response to Mason spilling an entire can of beans on herself).

Mason sang for her and scavenged toys and thought up stories to tell her. She even managed to scout out a portable solar charger for her iPod; Ava soon had favorite songs she demanded they listen to every night. Her smiles and laughter kept Mason grounded.

But outside of their little familiar bubble, Mason felt the world encroaching. She stayed far away from people now, going out of her way to avoid them even if it meant a whole day figuring out a new route. Of course, she saw them less and less; the dead were more prevalent. And though she hated seeing them, at least they were getting easier to deal with.

She thought perhaps she was sinking. Depression was certainly no stranger, but it seemed this time it had cast new legs and was stalking her through the flatlands and woods, the summers and winters. It hovered over her shoulder anytime she had to dispatch the undead, reminding her that that wasn't all she could do.

She didn't think she was going to be okay, even if they reached Virginia.

It was winter when she crossed the border into Georgia. The south had the same unpleasant, middle-of-the-road chill that California had this time of year, and she found herself wishing for the bitter winters of Kansas. At least that felt real. At least when you shivered, it was what you deserved.

She avoided Atlanta, which wasn't difficult; she spotted its skyline several miles away. There likely weren't people there, which was her main concern, but she remembered the bodies in L.A., stumbling about, reclaiming their city.

It was shaping up to be a wet, miserable day, although Ava seemed excited. For some reason Mason could not understand, she enjoyed gray, rainy days. All they ever seemed to do for Mason was bring down her mood. Still, she let Ava play a bit in the puddles before drying her off and scooping her back into her sling.

"No!" Ava pouted. "I walk!"

"Not today, missy," Mason replied.

Ava scrunched her nose in an adorable rendition of a snarl, which Mason was able to tickle away pretty easily. Hopefully there wouldn't be any tantrums.

The sky overhead darkened, brewing up something cold and violent. Ava watched the clouds roll in, enthralled. They would have to find shelter soon.

It appeared in the form of a short, grimy bus, parked in the woods but just a few yards from a highway. Mason wasn't too thrilled at the proximity to the road, but the other option was fashioning a tent out of tree limbs, and she was getting tired of that.

"What do you think, baby girl?" Mason asked, turning so Ava could get a better glimpse.

"Big car," Ava said, clearly more interested in the sky.

"It's a bus," Mason said and drew her fire poker. She and Ava both had gotten used to clearing cars and buildings, since Mason always had to carry her inside on these errands, but it didn't stop the pinch of fear as she stepped inside.

The bus was empty. Musty from disuse, with kudzu climbing the windows and speckling everything with shadows. With a sigh of relief, Mason slid out from the supplies on her back and rolled her neck from side to side, hoping to work out the kinks.

A scream, brief but close. Mason stiffened, iron coming up defensively. She couldn't have people around.

Ava held Mason closer. Mason hid her more completely among the layer of clothes she wore before venturing outside. She would go see what was going on, figure out if she needed to move or…take care of the situation.

Icy rain began to fall as she ran. The telltale snarl of the dead led her to a ravine, and at first all she saw were them, piled against a fallen tree. But then she spotted a pretty young woman, scrambling backward in the water, trying to shake the corpse attached to her ankle. Her blond hair was stained with mud and blood, her eyes wide and panicked.

Mason didn't see anyone else. That made it easier. She wouldn't even have to do it herself. The dead served their purpose sometimes.

But her stomach twisted as she turned away, and she found she couldn't take that first step away from the woman.

_Just go. Let the dead have her._

She hovered uncertainly. Killing someone in self-defense, to protect her own…that was one thing. Leaving someone to the dead…

Will's body flashed in her mind. Nick, Naomi, Gina. She closed her eyes like that might block out the image, but of course it didn't.

Ava squirmed, one little hand gripping the nape of Mason's neck. "Macie," she whimpered and pointed toward the ravine. "Help. She go uh oh."

Mason swallowed. "I can't—" But could she leave?

Ava kept pointing. "She need Macie."

From behind, the woman let out a sound. Not quite a scream, but full of terror nonetheless.

Mason sagged, rolling her eyes to the sky.

_Aw, fuck me._

And against her better instincts, turned back to help.

**A/N: So a few things. This will NOT be the last we hear of Coyote and her weirdo cult. Also, there are two quotes from the Oasis, the "If they no longer exist to feel loss..." and "I don't have to keep trying..." ones, that come from Welcome to Night Vale, my very favorite episode entitled "WALK" (which I highly recommend listening to. Actually, I highly recommend listening to the whole show, but...lol) WTNV is just something I always associate with the Oasis, partially because they both take place in the desert but also because of the whole...ethereal, odd aspect. Anyway, I know this chapter focused mainly on Mason and Ava's journey, but the next chapter will include Beth in that, which I hope y'all will enjoy. Until then, much love! xoxo**


	8. In the Woods Somewhere

**A/N: Hello, all! First thing's first, I apologize for taking so long to update. I know I keep saying it but I promise to be better about that. Second, it's another long chapter, actually the longest as of yet, and I apologize for that as well. Hopefully it's enjoyable! Today's chapter song is "In the Woods Somewhere" by Hozier, and...omg is it a perfect song for TWD, holy shit. Also, there IS a trigger warning for allusions to self-harm, and a warning for (brief!) adult content toward the end, just so y'all are prepared. Many, many thanks to y'all reading and reviewing, you're the best!  
**

8\. First Interim, pt. 2: In the Woods Somewhere

"Don't come any closer."

The woman stilled as Mason pointed the iron at her throat. "Okay. I-I'm sorry."

The awkward silence that followed might have been complete if not for the dead, who continued snapping and growling behind the log. Mason took the opportunity to dispatch them, keeping her senses alert for any sign of attack from the woman. She half-hoped the woman would be gone by the time she turned back, but…no. There she stood, hovering uncertainly on one leg, looking irritatingly grateful.

Well, Mason wasn't going to indulge her in any kind of conversation. She'd saved her life. Now they could go their separate ways.

Ava squirmed free of the veil of clothes to peer in the woman's direction. She waved. "Hi."

Mason snatched her hand back and glared a warning at the woman, who looked more amused than anything. Ava whined; Mason could feel a tantrum brewing.

"I'm not gonna hurt her," the woman said, wincing a bit as she wobbled to keep her balance. "I swear, I—"

"You're not gonna get near her," Mason growled. "You're gonna turn and walk away, or I'll kill you."

The woman opened her mouth, but her gaze flicked past Mason's shoulder and whatever she was about to say reshaped itself. "Oh crap."

Mason was hesitant to look; what if it was a trick? But above the pattering of the rain, she caught the sound of feet shuffling through wet leaves and teeth gnashing in loose jaws.

Shit.

She knew that sound.

The dead piled toward them, driven by the chill wind. Their numbers hovered somewhere between twenty and thirty, far more than Mason was willing to confront with Ava strapped to her chest.

_And the woman…_

Reluctantly Mason glanced at her. "Your foot fucked up or something?"

"My ankle."

Mason strode toward her. "Don't try anything stupid," she muttered before wrapping an arm around the woman. "Lean on me."

"The name's Beth," the woman offered.

Mason didn't reply at first, too busy trying to drag all three of them up the steep incline before the dead reached them. At least Ava knew the drill at this point; whenever there was danger around, she held silent and still for Mason to carry her more easily. Beth slipped when they were nearly at the top, but Mason held firm, hoisting her the last few inches over the edge. Only once Mason crested the ridge herself did she speak.

"Mason," she grunted. "And the little one's Ava. And I think that's all the introduction we need, unless you wanna go around the circle with these guys and say one thing you did over the summer."

They took off through the trees, though it was mostly Mason propelling them. She could tell Beth was trying to move quickly despite her injury, but the dead were never far behind. Mason gritted her teeth in frustration.

What the fuck was she doing, rescuing some stranger? Risking her life, Ava's? Hadn't she learned what a dumbfuck idea that was? It wasn't too late to leave Beth to the dead. Wouldn't that be wiser?

"Learned to ride a motorcycle," Beth puffed, jarring Mason from her dark deliberation. When Mason shot her a look that questioned her sanity, Beth continued, "That's what I did over the summer."

She smiled, and Mason curled her lip. She wasn't sure what the expression equaled out to; it felt too baffled to be a smile. But it disrupted all thoughts of leaving her behind.

The dead came from the west, where the bus waited, so they had to make a wide arc to get back on track. With every dragging step, the gap between them and the dead inched closed. Finally, a snap decision brought Mason to a halt.

She let go of Beth and crouched low. "Get on."

"Wait, are you serious?"

"Yeah, I thought a piggyback race might enhance this moment."

Beth rolled her eyes but climbed on, and Mason thanked all those months of carrying supplies on her back like fucking Beedle from Breath of the Wild. She was able to move faster, but it was still not enough to put her at a comfortable distance from the horde.

She almost missed the bus, it was so grimy with forest litter and creeping vines, but at the last second she caught the red wink of its brake lights. Blinking rain from her eyes, she veered to the right, stopping just short of ramming into the front door.

The dead followed, only yards away and too close to hope they wouldn't converge on their hiding place. Mason shrugged out of her layers enough to free Ava from her sling. A spark of misgiving made her hesitate before handing Ava to Beth.

"Get her inside. I'll cover you," she said.

Beth didn't protest but Ava did, wailing and reaching for Mason as Beth pried open the door. The sound put a lump in Mason's throat but she stood firm, fire iron raised as the dead converged. It was just a precaution, although the proximity of the herd made her sweat. The rain turned to sleet as she stood there, waiting.

With only about a yard between her and the dead, Beth hailed Mason and Mason turned to join them.

Three corpses appeared around the front of the bus. One of them grabbed Mason's ankle as she ascended the steps. Teeth grazed the back of her leg, sending a sting of panic through her. She twisted to beat the body back, but lost her balance and toppled outside.

She went to her knees and came right back up, shoving corpses away as she did, though it made little difference. The herd converged. She barely had time to get her iron up, deflecting teeth and grasping hands by mere inches.

Gunshots, close enough to make her ears ring. Several bodies fell, allowing Mason a bit of breathing room. In the next second, Beth was there beside her, unsteady but determined as she aimed her handgun. No, Mason's handgun. She must have gone through Mason's things in search of a weapon.

"I told you to get inside," Mason hissed, driving her iron through the skulls of two corpses at once.

"No," Beth replied. "You told me to get Ava inside."

Clenching her jaw hard enough to hurt, Mason tried to nudge Beth back to the bus. But Beth refused to be corralled. She kept shooting, an ornery dent between her brows.

"You only have twelve shots!" Mason said. "Get inside—"

One of the dead staggered into Beth, knocking her onto her injured leg, which gave out beneath her. She struggled to stay upright under the weight of the corpse, its teeth gnashing closer and closer to her face.

Mason skewered it through the eye and tossed it away before it could get a bite in. Fingers pulled her jacket taut, but she strained against them, grabbing Beth and swinging her onto the bus. The force of the movement and the weight of her attackers sent her spiraling against the fender.

Something sharp sank into her side, just above her hip. Adrenaline buffered the pain, but the depth of the injury still had her sucking in a breath. When she pulled away, she left her blood dripping down into the wheel well—and all over the rusted metal jutting above, torn away from the body by some previous impact.

She couldn't stop to examine it. Wave after wave of the dead pressed upon her, drawn by the scent of fresh blood. Her back against the bus, barely any room to maneuver her fire iron, she was sure this was it.

Two more gunshots cleared a tiny path for her to the door. She took the opportunity, squeezing between a pair of hulking corpses close enough to feel their putrid breath on her neck. Blood spattered the steps as she tripped inside. Beth shoved the door closed behind her.

Mason sat in the driver's seat. Beth leaned over the railing along the steps. They stared at each other, panting, as the dead surrounded the bus.

Then Ava came running down the aisle and clambered into Mason's lap, crying. Her knee bumped Mason's wound and Mason flinched.

"Ah—careful, baby girl."

Ava didn't seem to notice, too focused on grabbing Mason's face in her chubby hands. "Mad, Macie!" she said through tears.

"I know you're mad at me. I'm sorry."

"No go again!"

"I promise I won't leave you again. Okay? We still friends?"

Ava glared. "No!"

Mason chuckled and pulled her in for a hug. "Oh, okay. Well, let me know when we are again."

Ava kept babbling, squeezing Mason's torso with surprising strength. Mason winced, glancing down to find her blood pooling on the seat.

"You're hurt," Beth said, eyes wide. "Were you…were you bit?"

"Nah. Cut myself on some metal sticking out of this rust bucket." The adrenaline was fading, the pain pressing in. It built on itself like stacking kindling in a fire.

Beth swallowed. "Well, let me see. We need to get the bleedin' stopped."

Mason eyed her silently. She'd helped Mason out there even though it could've gotten her killed. She'd gotten Ava inside. She seemed genuinely concerned for Mason's wellbeing, not like the cloying devotion Coyote had shown her.

"Alright," she finally said. "Let's move to a different seat. We'll have more room there."

Mason slouched in a seat in the back. Ava clung to her, quiet now as she watched the blood drip down Mason's waist.

Gingerly, Beth lifted the hem of Mason's shirt. She paused, and Mason knew what she would see. Scars, a whole map of them etching her side from her hip to her ribs. Not one of them received after the Turn. Not one of them she wanted to talk about.

"Well?" Mason grunted rigidly, making Beth jump.

"I-it's deep, so it'll need stitches. Just a few." She took the backpack from her shoulders and rifled through it, pulling out a small white box. "Do you have water? You'll need to clean the wound first."

Mason did as she was told, then sat back to let Beth work. After a while, she sighed.

"Thank you. For jumping out to help even though it was stupid and I told you not to."

Beth narrowed her eyes. "I could sew your mouth shut, too, while I'm at it."

Once the wound was stitched closed, Mason pushed herself up to peer outside, ignoring the strange tug of the sutures. She'd never had stitches before, despite probably needing some growing up.

"Hey!" Beth grabbed her shoulders.

Mason recoiled, glaring a warning like an angry cat. In another time, she never would've reacted in such a way. In another time, having a beautiful woman touch her simply would've made her blush.

Cautiously, Beth let go. "Sorry. But you shouldn't move. You don't want to strain your stitches."

Mason snorted. "It's not like I'm breaking out some sweet parkour moves, which I absolutely could under better circumstances—"

"Parkour…?"

"—I'm assessing our crappy situation."

The dead surrounded them five-deep on all sides, though a thicker congregation gathered by the front fender, lapping at her blood.

"There's more than before," she said.

"Sometimes herds pass through here," Beth said. "We think they migrate from the city and that's why they're so frequent."

Mason turned slowly. "We?"

"My group."

Abruptly, Mason fell back to shield Ava, drawing the Oasis knife from her belt. Her eyes darted back and forth like she expected this group to pop out of nowhere, snakes in hand.

Beth just stood there, confused and…_pitying_. Like Mason was no more than a stray animal she'd decided to give her scraps to.

"Hey. It's okay. They wouldn't hurt you."

"Don't bullshit me," Mason snarled. "Anyone would hurt anyone for the right reason these days. Now where are they?"

"We live in a prison a few miles up."

"So was that your plan? Lure us in and trap us here?"

"What?" Beth looked horrified. "_No_. Besides, what could I gain trappin' myself in here, too?"

"I don't know, I'm not the one trapping people here."

"_Look_," Beth snapped. "I'm not the type of person you think I am. I just risked my life helpin' you. You can keep actin' like an idiot or we can work together and think of a way out of here."

They stared each other down for a moment. The air crackled with tension, emphasized by the dead beating at the windows.

Finally, Mason said, "Let's search the rest of this bus. See if there's anything useful."

There wasn't much. Some faded newspapers, a few deformed candles, as though someone had tried to make this home once upon a time. And a hole in the floor near the rear exit about the size of a basketball, too small to crawl through.

Mason pointed to it and said, "Bathroom."

Beth made a face. "What?"

"That's our bathroom. Unless you wanna stick your ass out a window."

"I wouldn't mind stickin' you out a window…"

"I think I have an idea."

"…Not…about…the bathroom, is it?"

The idea, however, turned out to be a disaster. She thought they could pick them off the same way she had back at her house in Kansas—one by one through the door, since they quickly discovered the windows only opened slightly.

But as soon as they cracked the door, the dead pried their fingers in and nearly forced it all the way open. Mason and Beth were hard-pressed to get it shut again.

"Jeez, these walkers," Beth said, shaking her head. She sat on the step above Mason's, wisps of blonde hair floating around her face.

"Walkers?"

"Yeah, that's what we call 'em. Why, what do you call 'em?"

Mason shrugged. "The dead." Her wound burned. She lifted her shirt and pressed her side to the cool door.

"You probably shouldn't do that. I'm sure there's bacteria in here."

"Isn't there technically bacteria everywhere?"

"Are you always a jackass?"

"Only every day the sun rises."

"Fine." Beth stood, primly dusting off like the grime covering her was something that could be dusted off. "Let that get infected. You'd deserve it."

As she limped away, using headrests on either side as makeshift crutches, Mason thought wryly, _Well, you're not wrong. _

The rest of the evening passed in relative silence, apart from a discussion on whether or not they could build a fire in a bus and whether or not they should. They decided to wait, partly because there really wasn't much to burn aside from the padding in the seats.

Mason and Ava sat on one side of the bus, sharing a can of cold baked beans; Mason kept an eye on Beth the whole time. She sat across from them, munching absently on some kind of dried meat. There was a furrow in her brow that made Mason think something was bothering her, but of course she didn't ask what that might be.

The sleet slackened as darkness fell. Once Ava was bundled up and warm, Mason curled up next to her and settled in for a long night. Hours passed, and though she was exhausted, sleep did not come. Scenarios kept running through her head, and each one wound her tighter and tighter.

She estimated it was about midnight when her attention returned to Beth. Her vague shadow shivered every once in a while. She hadn't packed anything to keep her warm other than the clothes on her back. Mason wondered where she'd thought she was going, or how long she'd planned on being out here.

When she could no longer stand the shivering, she sighed through her nose and leaned across the aisle.

"Hey. It's probably warmer closer together," she whispered.

Beth sat up. Her face was hidden, but the surprise was clear in her voice. "Really?"

"Yeah… It's simple science. I can't sleep with all that teeth chattering anyway."

She wouldn't sleep with Beth so close, either, but she couldn't just let her freeze. She scooted to the side and Beth scrunched up next to her. Like Mason, her clothes were still damp.

"Y'know, probably be warmer if we shared the blanket," Beth said. Mason didn't think she was imagining the tone of smugness.

She rolled her eyes, but lent one side of the blanket anyway.

In spite of herself, she did manage to sleep.

~m~

Beth awoke to soft snoring and looked up to see the sun illuminating Mason's jaw line. She looked much more peaceful in sleep; Beth smiled, unwilling to move in case she woke her. Besides, this felt…nice. Mason was sturdy and warm. Beth felt safe with her arm around Mason's torso.

When Ava stirred, however, Mason woke immediately, twitching away from Beth.

"Morning, baby girl."

"Nornin', Macie," Ava replied.

The warmth in Mason's expression dimmed when she glanced at Beth. "Breakfast I guess, then we get to planning?"

"Okay."

The walkers remained around the bus, the same way they clustered at the fences around the prison. If they couldn't kill them from inside, it would take a hell of a distraction to lure them away.

Mason said as much after breakfast. She sat with Beth on the boarding steps, staring at the walkers as they smeared their filth on the door. Ava played in the back with some toys, filling the silence with gibberish.

"Blood could do it," Mason said darkly. "It's worked before."

"You've…done that before? Used your blood?"

"It was all I had."

Beth swallowed. What had she been through, to wind up like this in the middle of nowhere with a two-year-old? She thought back to the scars on Mason's side and unconsciously touched her own, the ridge of damaged skin on her wrist.

"We couldn't do it through the door, though," Mason went on. "They're too crowded there, we'd need height."

"So…the roof."

But there was no way onto it. There was a hatch, but it wouldn't budge. Even with Beth perched on Mason's shoulders for leverage, she couldn't get it to open.

"It's locked." She sighed.

"Isn't that a safety hazard?" Mason muttered, lowering her to the floor. When she stumbled a bit, favoring her injured ankle, Mason's hand snatched out to steady her.

Beth smiled. "Thanks."

Mason looked away quickly. "Don't mention it."

"And, yeah, it's a prison bus. These emergency exits only open with a key. I was just hopin' maybe whoever was here before left it unlocked for us."

"You spend a lot of time behind bars?"

"Yep."

"I mean as a criminal."

Beth's eyes widened. "Do I look like one?"

Mason offered a wry smile. "Everyone knows it's the pretty ones you gotta look out for."

Instantly she blinked, and something like horror crossed her face. Beth just stared, aware of the heat pooling in her cheeks but unable to look away.

Ava cut in on the awkwardness, stretching her arms toward the hatch and then Mason. "Up!"

"You wanna try, baby girl?"

Mason lifted Ava onto her shoulders and let her push against the hatch for a minute, cheering her on, though of course to no avail. Beth took the opportunity to clear her head, though it took a moment to get that phrase out: _the pretty ones._

"So what now?" she asked when Ava grew bored trying to open the hatch.

Mason thought for a moment. "Why don't we try pulling in some of this kudzu through the windows? I know we can't open them that far but I don't think that'll be a problem since it's a vine. For kindling. Use everything you can use, you know?"

It was silent while they worked. Ava settled in for a nap and it felt like it was just Beth alone with Mason, which made her feel on edge. Not necessarily in a bad way, although that in itself…

_Everyone knows it's the pretty ones you gotta look out for._

She needed noise. She needed to distract her brain.

"Where are you from?" she asked.

Mason paused in the middle of wrestling a big clump of kudzu through the window. "Why?"

_Jackass._

"That's just what people talk about," she muttered, then forced a more cheery voice. "I'm from around here. My daddy had a farm. It was in our family for generations, but…" Her heart ached, remembering the farm. The years growing up on it, standing in stark contrast to the night it fell.

When the silence crept on, Mason glanced over. Her eyes were softer with understanding.

"The dead got it?"

"Yeah… Most of us made it out alive. We were there about eight months after everythin' fell apart, and then…a year on the road, I think. Now we're at the prison."

She'd had her eighteenth birthday on the run from walkers. She'd had her nineteenth birthday in a prison. It was hard to imagine anything else at this point.

But she shrugged and continued working, wondering if Mason would take the bait.

"Kansas," she finally answered. Beth ducked her head to hide her smile. "I'm from Kansas originally and California after that. Ava was born on the road, but we were in Kansas at the time so I guess…I guess that makes her a Kansas native, too."

"You had her on the road?"

"She's not mine."

Beth nodded. She hadn't thought as much, as they didn't look anything alike. She knew enough not to ask what happened to the mother.

"Are you on your way anywhere?"

"Virginia. The rest of our…of Ava's family's there. I think."

"Oh."

"What?"

Beth shook her head, feeling embarrassed. "Well, our group takes people in sometimes. If you needed a place to stay, we'd be more than happy to—"

"We don't need a place to stay," Mason growled. "We're going to Virginia."

Beth nodding, thinking maybe it was time to be quiet. But after a moment, Mason sighed, and said in a lighter tone, "Which is too bad, because why would I ever want to leave this homey little set-up?"

Beth smiled and took the peace offering. "I give it four stars since there's never any mints on the pillows, but other than that…"

"I prefer chocolates, to be honest."

"I think you just prefer disagreein' with everythin' I say."

Mason hit her with a full-blown grin then. It was like looking at a sunbeam. Ignoring the twisting in her stomach, Beth rolled her eyes.

"Jackass."

They laid the kudzu out to dry as much as it could, and passed the rest of the time talking. Or rather, Beth passed the time prodding conversation out of Mason. She thought it got just a tiny bit easier, though. Mason wasn't a bad person, just…prickly. And Beth figured she probably had her reasons for that.

"What's your favorite color?" she asked when it looked like Mason wanted to clam up again.

Mason raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious?"

"Yep. Mine's yellow. Maybe blue."

"Purple. Used to be red, but…" She looked down at her hands. "I'm tired of red."

"Well, what's your favorite…type of music?"

She felt like she had to keep talking, to keep Mason from slipping out of her reach. She knew she shouldn't care so much, but she couldn't help it. Besides, if they were going to be trapped together for however long, they may as well do something.

"I don't know, lots. Alternative, I guess."

"Got anythin' you could play for me?"

The look Mason gave her made her squirm sheepishly.

"When I was goin' through your pack yesterday, I couldn't help noticin' you had an iPod. I wasn't tryin' to snoop, I really just—"

"It's alright," Mason sighed before reaching into her pack. After a moment's hesitation, she handed Beth the iPod and a pair of headphones. "Listen all you want. I've got a solar battery."

She coaxed up a fire while Beth rummaged through her music. It got a little smoky at first but with the windows cracked it eventually dissipated. It didn't smell pleasant, especially when they added some of the stuffing torn from a seat cushion, but the bus did heat up quickly.

Mason warmed the leftover beans from last night over the low, insistent flames. Beth's stomach rumbled, but she couldn't get herself to stop listening to Mason's music. There was a lot she'd never heard before, although some she recognized from Maggie's rebellious phase. She really liked a good portion of it, but beyond that, it was just nice to hear music again.

When she noticed Mason waving at her, she realized she must have been trying to catch her attention for a while.

"Shoot." She paused the music. "Sorry."

Mason pointed to Beth's ankle. "You keep rubbing it. Ha. That's what she… I mean, how's it feeling?"

"Um, it's okay."

"Wonder if we could get some ice for it or something?" Mason examined the windows with a frown, and for some reason, this made Beth's heart swell with warmth.

"Oh, that's okay, really, it's just a bad sprain. It could be worse. Which reminds me, I should take a look at your stitches."

Mason reluctantly obeyed, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. Beth frowned. The skin around the sutures was an angry red. Gently she touched it and Mason flinched.

"Ah, god, careful! Jesus fuck—you know, you don't just go plunging your fingers into a stab wound, right?"

"Have you been pickin' at this? Or scratchin'?"

"Of course not."

"I think it's infected." She bit her lip, wishing her dad was there. He always knew exactly what to do. "I'll rinse it down again with water."

Mason lent her a water bottle and the last sliver of bar soap. Her jaw clenched while Beth cleaned the area surrounding the sutures.

"Wish we had some—melaleuca," she spoke haltingly, hissing every now and then. "Or—oregano."

"What's melaleuca?"

"Tea tree oil. They're both good for—fighting infection. Best I've got are some dried elderberries, but that's more for colds and shit."

Beth nodded, finishing up. "My dad makes tea out of that."

"Yeah, me, too. I'm a slut for tea."

A surprised giggle burst out of her. "_What_?"

"That's right. A big ole tea tramp. A pekoe puta."

"You're dumb."

Falling asleep that night, Beth rested her head on Mason's shoulder. It filled her with flutters when Mason didn't shoo her away. Casually wrapping an arm around Mason's waist, she thought, _She called me pretty. _

It was her last coherent thought before tumbling into dreams.

~m~

Mason woke up feeling half-broiled, which confused her at first because the sun hadn't risen yet. She stirred a bit and her head spun.

Shit. The infection.

She tried to peek at the wound without waking Beth or Ava, but of course that was too much to ask for.

"What's wrong?" Beth mumbled.

"Nothing. Go back to sleep."

But Beth sat up straighter, pressing a hand to Mason's cheek. "Mason, you're burnin' up."

"No, you've just got icicles for fingers."

"Hey, infection isn't somethin' to screw around with. Let me see."

Grumbling under her breath, Mason obeyed, flinching a bit when Beth turned on her flashlight. The wound looked swollen, with little red streaks branching out from it.

"Shit," Beth hissed.

"Whoa. I didn't know you were capable of cursing. I mean, like, real cursing. You sure you aren't going to spontaneously combust?" In truth, it made her a little nervous, but she wasn't going to say as much.

Beth glared at her. "This is serious."

"_Shh_."

But it was too late. Ava roused from slumber, black hair sticking out in tufts, and gave the two of them a look that could wither steel.

"_Loud_," she growled.

"Sorry, baby girl."

Since they were all awake, Mason decided they may as well have breakfast. But she quickly realized after she roused the embers of yesterday's fire that breakfast was not on her agenda.

"Aren't you eatin'?" Beth asked, spooning some canned peaches into her mouth.

Mason tried not to make a face. "I'm just a little queasy."

Beth stared her down. "That's it. I'm figurin' a way out of this bus, and I'm gettin' you some help."

But they spent all day brainstorming and came up with nothing substantial, though Mason had to admit she was still considering one of Beth's suggestions.

"Walker blood? Really?"

"Yeah, my group's done it before. Cover yourself in guts and they can't smell you."

"That's badass… But I don't think I want to risk it with Ava, especially with me and you injured."

The walkers seemed to have no intention of leaving the bus anytime soon. Their best bet as of yet was to hope for some person or animal to catch their attention and lead them off. But everything seemed hunkered down, and for good reason. The clouds gathering overhead were thick and promised more nasty weather.

"I'll keep the fire going as late as I can so it doesn't get too cold in here tonight," Mason said.

"I can do that," Beth replied. "You should rest."

"You're not the boss of me," Mason said, grinning at the affronted glint in Beth's eyes.

"Shut up and lay down."

And Mason felt shitty enough to do as she was told, though she doubted she'd actually get any sleep. Her head pounded like a bass drum.

The snow started around twilight, fat flakes that promised to stick. Mason watched in fascination while the world spun around them. She was gently bobbing on a sea. She thought of her dream in the desert and closed her eyes.

When she opened them, she was standing in the middle of a gray, ashy wood. Smoke hung in the air around her. Half-burnt bodies littered the ground. She was covered in blood and soot, and weighed down by one single thought.

_I have to get to you._

She didn't know who she meant, but she knew they were in trouble. She knew they needed her just as much as she needed them. She knew the two of them had been separated for a long time.

Shadows moved within the trees, just beyond the edge of seeing, but she knew it was the dead coming for her. Barring her way.

_You cannot stop me, _she thought at them. The trees awakened, their scorched corpses glowing with first the memory of embers and then the reality. _Nothing will._

Fire flickered back to life in the veins of the trees until the whole forest blazed, and her body with it. But she moved forward anyway, even as her skin crackled, even as her bones smoldered.

Above her head, a single star shone through the gloom. She felt like its ghost, reborn.

_Call me to you. I'll sing you to me._

The fire burned hotter.

~m~

"Mason, wake up."

Beth leaned over Mason's curled frame. The heat coming off her body was alarming; it turned to steam in the frigid air.

Her eyes finally opened, but they weren't seeing Beth or the bus. They were a universe away.

"…_promise…North Star… I'll find you…_"

The fever was making her delirious. Beth sat there for a moment, mind gone blank with panic. The sound of the walkers roared louder in her ears, pulsing with her thumping heart. Frantically she tried to think of her dad, how calm he kept in these situations, and what he would do if he were here.

_The fever, Bethy, _she thought in his voice._ It's the only thing you can control at this point. You have the tools to do it. So get to work._

She whirled out of her seat and grabbed Mason's pack. It took a moment of searching but she finally found it—a handful of dried elderberries, covered in leaf dust and grit.

As she was brewing it into a tea, she felt a tug on the back of her shirt, and was surprised to see Ava watching her shyly. She hadn't had much to do with Beth since they'd met, clearly too afraid of strangers to try.

"Macie not okay," she said. "She too sleepy."

Beth turned to face her. "It's—"

But Ava squeaked and scurried back to Mason's side to hide.

"It's okay, Ava," Beth said. "I'm gonna help her. I'm makin' her a tea, and when she drinks it she'll feel better, I promise."

The promise was more of a hope, but she didn't have time to dwell on that. Once it was brewed, she sat Mason up and prompted her to drink. It was a slow process, but eventually the tea was gone and Mason was semi-conscious.

"Beth…?" she rasped.

"Hey, jackass. You know I wasn't serious when I said let that get infected."

"Oh, I thought you were giving me permission…"

She sounded so tired. Beth ran a hand through her hair. "You should get some more rest. I just wanted you to drink some tea real quick."

"Elderberry…"

"That's right. Mason? Can you think of anythin' else that might help? Anythin' we might have?" All she could think of were basic pharmaceuticals her dad used, which she had none of.

"Do you have any garlic?" It was hard to tell by her tone whether she was being serious or not.

"Um, no. Does that help with infection?"

"Mm-hmm."

Frustration dug at her. Not at Mason, but at the realization that she knew where she could find some garlic—a tiny grove of it and other wintering vegetation they left to lure game in. It actually wasn't far from here at all, at least she was pretty sure, but it was beyond the walkers, which made it ultimately unreachable.

_We'll think of something._

To soothe them both, Beth started singing lightly and Mason settled back in her arms.

"Mmm. Pretty."

It snowed the whole day, muffling the world outside. Beth kept up her singing until both Mason and Ava were asleep, and then after that to break the silence. The few times it snowed in Georgia, she'd never been fond of the way everything got so quiet. It creeped her out.

But then she realized…it was _quiet _quiet. The usual background din of the walkers had faded.

Her heart leapt. Had they finally left? Had the snow driven them off? She hurried to peer outside.

No, the walkers remained, just as many as there had been. Beneath a layer of snow and ice, they moved dully, as if in slow motion.

But maybe…maybe that meant she could get past them.

She bit her lip and glanced back at Mason. She had to admit she didn't relish the idea of being outside by herself with a sprained ankle. And it seemed highly irresponsible to leave Ava behind when Mason couldn't properly protect her. But there was nothing on this bus that was going to heal Mason.

By the time she decided, the wind had kicked up, beating snow against the windows. She pressed a hand to Mason's forehead and fear shimmied up her spine. She couldn't stall any longer; Mason needed help now.

Gently she roused Ava, who eyed her suspiciously. "Ava, remember how I said I was gonna help Mason? Well, I need to go somewhere real quick to get some medicine for her. It's not far, I promise I won't be gone long. I need you to stay here and be brave for Mason, okay?"

Ava hugged Mason's arm possessively. "My Macie."

"That's right. Just stay in the bus with her, okay?"

Ava nodded.

At the last second, she took the fire poker, hoping Mason wouldn't mind. With any luck, she'd be back before Mason even woke up.

She didn't let herself think as she opened the folding door. She barreled outside, slammed the door shut, and shot right through the midst of the frosted walkers.

It was too much to hope that the snow would've kept them docile. They livened at the sight of her, growing louder, faster. They gave chase as she stumbled away.

Well. At least now they finally had something to lead them away from the bus.

She was quick to feel thankful she'd grabbed the fire iron. When the herd started gaining, she plunged the pointed end in the ground and used it to propel herself forward. On the slippery surface, it was almost like skiing. Despite everything, or maybe because of it, the sensation made her laugh.

The wind was at her back, so she was able to put significant distance between herself and the herd. Daylight faded while she searched and she pulled out her flashlight. It would be getting colder in the bus but she couldn't think about that. She couldn't think about Mason, feverish and shuddering in pain. She had a job to do.

And then finally her light fell on it, the tiny grove, sheltered on one side by trees. Many of the garlic shoots were brown and withered, but when she tugged, the bulbs popped out, healthy and full. She threw as many as she could in her pack.

_Don't worry, Mason. I'll help you._

~m~

Mason drifted in and out of consciousness, riding waves of uncomfortable heat and uneasy darkness. What dreams she slipped into were rabid and confusing. Walkers moving faster than normal, jerking and twitching as if in seizures. People that walked among them, carrying snakes, carrying faces, turning from living to dead and back again.

Intermittently, she was aware of Ava crying and saying her name over and over again. This was the only reason she struggled against sleep. _I'm right here, _she wanted to say, but where was she?

Somewhere in the middle of this, she roused enough to catch a glimpse of something out the window. Multiple somethings. Multiple somethings with lights.

_People, _she thought, although maybe it was walkers. Did the dead carry flashlights? She couldn't remember. Paranoia seeped in and she held Ava closer. But whoever—or whatever—they were, they passed by the bus without seeing it, obscured by snow and darkness as it was.

Minutes dragged her back down. She fell like crumbling bricks, wondering where the stars were, wondering how to get to them. Was she dying? Had she died already? She felt weightless as a spirit.

Someone called her name. She wished she could feel her arms enough to hug Ava. She wished her voice would come back to her.

Her nose stung. An unpleasant smell. Not the usual unpleasant smell, not the dead, but not unfamiliar, either.

She sneezed, jarring herself back to consciousness. Which sucked, because everything hurt, including the blood in her veins, including the breath in her lungs.

"_Ughh_… What the fuck is that?" she growled, looking around very slowly so as not to worsen the headache cracking her skull apart.

"Garlic," a familiar voice replied.

Mason blinked. "Beth?"

Her face came into focus, blonde hair hanging in wet strands around her flushed face. She smiled.

_She's so beautiful. You should tell her that._

"You're so beautiful," she said to her immediate regret.

_Sorry, what I meant was you probably _shouldn't _tell her that._

Beth hesitated a moment before rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "Can't you ever just react to situations like a normal person?"

She was entirely awake while the garlic was pressed to her wound, but she nodded off once the stinging faded. Tamer dreams welcomed her.

~m~

Another day passed with Mason mostly unconscious. Beth applied new garlic poultices every few hours, monitoring the wound each time. It looked like the swelling had gone down, but the red streaks remained, as well as Mason's fever. On the occasions she was awake for it, Beth made her drink more elderberry tea to bring it down.

She sang for Ava in the downtime, who at least didn't run from her anymore. She sang to herself when Beth was silent, or played with her toys, but always by Mason's side.

That night, Beth's thoughts turned to the prison, what her family thought now she'd been gone for so long. Her dad and Maggie were probably frantic. Guilt gnawed at her gut, but there was no way she was going back now. Even if Mason was well enough to travel…she didn't think she'd want to go back.

She didn't want to stay away forever, it wasn't like that. But the thought of turning back now, facing them… She couldn't bear it and she wasn't sure why. She was in for hell when she got back, but that wasn't it. It was…

On her first day out here, she'd managed to sprain her ankle, endanger a stranger and a child, and nearly get eaten by walkers. There was no way she had a prayer of accomplishing her original task; the weather would've erased Merle's trail, if she was even tracking him to begin with. And even if she was able to treat Mason, the infection was half her fault. This adventure wasn't just fruitless, it was a disaster.

_Maybe I can't bring Merle home, _she thought. _But maybe there's someone else I can._

She glanced at Mason's slumped form, twitching restlessly in sleep. She'd said before she was trying to get to Virginia, but maybe she could be convinced to stay. She was obviously a survivor; Beth couldn't imagine traveling alone for two years with an infant. That would be an accomplishment, right? Making her group stronger?

Of course, that wasn't the whole reason she wanted Mason at the prison…

_What's the reason then? _she thought belligerently, like her feelings might back off if shown enough attitude. But that wasn't how this worked.

When she was in high school, she remembered being obsessed with a book. It was a choose your own adventure book her friends were passing around, in secret from their parents since it mentioned things they wouldn't have approved of. She remembered being fascinated by one scenario in particular, in which her character ended up with another woman.

She didn't realize why right away. All she knew was that it intrigued her. All she knew was that sometimes when she watched a movie, she'd see a pretty actress and think, _I'm not into girls, but if I was… _All she knew was that it hurt in a strange, personal way when her friend, Tammy, came out as a lesbian.

_I'm not into girls, _she'd told herself. She'd only ever dated guys. She was genuinely attracted to guys.

It was normal to wonder what it was like to kiss another girl, wasn't it?

These were things she never felt she could confess to anyone, not her friends, not her family. Not even Maggie. Sometimes she hated herself for these feelings. Sometimes she buried them so deep it was like filling her body with broken glass.

She knew why she wanted Mason at the prison.

"You can't think about that now," she muttered to herself. "You have a job to do."

She got a few hours of sleep next to Mason, but woke sometime in the early hours. Ava was curled in a ball with her head on Mason's leg.

Mason still wasn't awake.

Desperation needled her. Why wasn't Mason waking up? She couldn't help thinking of her dad after they amputated his leg, just waiting for his eyes to open. Beth ran a trembling hand through Mason's hair.

"C'mon," she whispered. "Wake up."

She pressed her nose to Mason's temple. Her free hand wrapped around Mason's torso. She held her close, listening to her heart beat, pretending it was the metronome she used while she was learning to play piano. She sang, low and gentle.

"Mmm…I like that song."

She froze. "Mason?"

"Nah…it's the ghost. The ghost that haunts this bus. Oooh."

Beth leaned back to examine her. "You're awake! How do you feel?" She laid a hand on Mason's cheek. It was warm, but nowhere near the heat from before.

"Great. I feel like I could run a marathon. Or, maybe not a marathon, but I think I could successfully jump a puddle. Like, a small one."

Beth laughed and hugged her. "You're so stupid and I'm so glad you're awake."

Weakly, Mason hugged her back. "Thanks to you."

"I'm not takin' responsibility for you bein' stupid."

After a moment, Mason leaned back, but kept Beth close with a hand on the small of her back. The pressure there felt significantly warm, and not from any fever. Her breath stirred Beth's hair.

"Uhm." Mason's forehead brushed Beth's and her heart thundered. "Thank you. For taking care of me. For the garlic… Wait. Where the hell did you get it?"

So Beth told her the whole story, and Mason's eyes got wider and wider with every word.

"You went out there. Alone. With a sprained ankle. For my dumb ass." Mason shook her head. "You fucking idiot."

"Hey, that doesn't sound like a thank you."

"I already thanked you. Now I'm questioning your critical thinking skills."

Their foreheads brushed again. Beth glanced at Mason's lips. She was afraid Mason would notice and afraid she wouldn't.

But Mason sank back, clearly exhausted, and Beth shook off the heat climbing her spine. It was selfish of her to be thinking of anything other than helping Mason recover. She patted her leg.

"I'll get some breakfast goin'."

~m~

Days passed while Mason recovered. She felt better little by little with the help of Beth and her poultices, though she was pretty goddamn sick of the smell of garlic. The walkers never returned. They saw several pass by outside their windows but nothing like the herd from before. The snow melted and the days got milder, though of course they still had several weeks of winter left.

Though they had the freedom now to get outside and stretch their legs, they continued camping out in the bus. It occurred to Mason more than once to ask about the prison, about when Beth intended on going back, but she had a feeling Beth didn't want to talk about it. Whenever it was brought up, she quickly changed the subject. And, well…Mason wasn't sure she wanted this to end just yet.

She wasn't dumb. She'd tried to fight it, but she couldn't deny her attraction to Beth. Which was entirely and utterly ridiculous. Befriending someone in this new world was one thing. Falling for them was fucking brainless. So she wasn't intending on initiating anything, but she still wanted just a little more time before forging on to Virginia.

But Beth, bless her heart, was not making it any easier to ignore these feelings. Tonight was no different.

"Time for a check-up!" she said cheerily after dinner.

Mason groaned. "Aw, c'mon, man. I'm perfectly fine, I don't need you poking and prodding all up on me."

Beth's eyes sparkled teasingly. "Now, Macie, be a big, brave girl for me. She can be brave for me, don't you think, Ava?"

Ava gave a happy little bounce. "Yeah!"

"Alright, alright, stop shaming me. I'll be brave. But just for a minute, and then I'm going back to being a chickenshit."

"Chickenchit, chickenchit!" Ava cheered before scampering away to play with her toys.

Mason settled in a seat and lifted her shirt. By now it was routine, but it still made her heart skip, exposing her scars.

Beth only examined the stitches a moment before nodding. "Lookin' great."

"No need to swoon, doll. I know I'm thick, I got that physique—"

Beth smacked her. "Shut _up_, you dumbass."

Mason chuckled, but grew still when she realized Beth was still looking at the wound.

No, not the wound. The scars, the old ones.

Their gazes met. There was a question in Beth's. Silently, Mason nodded toward her exposed torso. She'd already seen them anyway.

Sadness welled in Beth's eyes as they swept over Mason's side. "You did them yourself, didn't you?"

She didn't think she had to answer, so she didn't.

"I'm sorry," Beth went on. "I'm sorry you ever felt that way."

Mason shrugged. "That's just…how it be sometimes." She could've won an award for underplaying shit she probably shouldn't. But god, she could barely let Beth look at them. She definitely didn't want to talk about them.

Before she could say as much, she flinched with a soft snort at the feel of a finger stroking gently down the line of a scar.

Beth raised an eyebrow. "What was that?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

But Beth just grinned evilly and squirmed a finger over her stomach, which had Mason curling into a ball.

"So this is how I get you to cooperate, huh?"

"Ohokay, Beth" she giggled. "Stop—stop making me make these noises."

"What, you mean laughter?"

"Yes, it's embarrassing."

"Alright, alright. I don't want you to strain your stitches or anythin'. But once you're healed up…" Beth wiggled her fingers threateningly, but after a moment, her eyes dimmed. "You'll probably wanna get back on the road once you're healed up, right?"

Mason swallowed uncomfortably. "Beth…"

"I know we talked before, but…won't you consider stayin' with us? It doesn't have to be forever, but it's safe there. We'd take care of you and Ava. I think they'd all really like you."

"I'm sorry. I can't… I mean, I have to get Ava to her family, if they're still around. It wouldn't be fair to her not to try."

"But what about what's fair for you?"

"I don't think that matters now."

Beth laid her hands on Mason's knees. "Why?"

_Because I'm a murderer. Because I got my friends killed. Because it's my fault Ava doesn't know her own family._

But she couldn't bring herself to say any of this, so she just shrugged meekly.

"Mace."

Mason balked at the nickname. Gina used to call her that. She didn't say this, either.

"You…you're amazin'," Beth went on, glancing away shyly. "I don't think you realize that."

Her thumbs brushed lightly over Mason's knees. The motion sent heat buzzing straight to her head. She tried to focus.

"I, uhm…I mean, thank you, but…"

Hands ghosted up her legs, just slightly. Her words trailed off with a shuddering breath. She had to clear her throat to get them back.

"But you, um… I'm sorry, what were we talking about?"

Beth giggled. "How amazin' I think you are."

"Wait, how amazing I _am _or how amazing you _think _I am? Because there's a difference."

"Oh, _shush_, jackass."

Without warning, Beth kissed her cheek. Except she didn't pull away. Her lips lingered there, her nose brushing Mason's, while Mason went rigid with shock.

"Beth," she breathed.

Beth didn't reply, but her eyes flicked up in silent question, one hand running all the way up to Mason's thigh. She was leaning fully against Mason at this point, her other hand timidly cupping the back of Mason's neck.

"Beth…"

"You should kiss me, Mason."

"Wh-what?"

"You should kiss me. If you want. Do…you want to?"

She did. She did.

Fuck it.

She turned her head a hairsbreadth and let their lips touch, ignoring her doubts. It was hesitant and soft. Warmth blossomed in Mason's stomach.

Beth drew back briefly to stare her, stunned. "You're the first girl I've ever kissed," she said. Then her face lit up with a dazzling grin, like a weight had fallen from her shoulders. She grabbed Mason's face and kissed her eagerly, all shyness gone. She practically leapt into her lap.

Which Mason would have been all for, if not for the pain in her side.

"Ah—careful. Fucking stitches."

"Oh, shoot, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

Mason grinned. "Well, I'm dizzy and hot and I can't feel my legs, so yeah, I'm pretty great."

"Silly."

"If being silly means I can kiss you again, then I guess I'm the silliest bastard alive."

"Does that even make sense?"

"I—I don't… Who cares, just kiss me."

~m~

They lost track of the time, but Beth had to estimate they spent a few more weeks in the bus. Mason's wound healed up nicely, and the stitches began to dissolve. It was enough that she felt well enough to teach Beth a few fighting and defensive moves, so long as they took it easy.

When Beth asked for these lessons, Mason didn't laugh. She just shrugged and said, "I'll teach you what I can, but it's not like I'm a professional or anything."

The kissing continued, which made her deliriously happy. She'd been afraid Mason's fears would demand they call it quits, but each night she kissed Beth breathless and cuddled her to sleep, and Beth was left to wonder what she'd been so afraid of herself.

It did occur to her that she'd have to tell her dad, and Maggie, and everyone else. But they'd been through so much together. Surely there wouldn't be judgment at this point? Still, the thought of coming out made her nervous, which she confessed to Mason.

"Okay, look," Mason had said. "There will probably be some sort of adjustment period. That's just reality from my experience, although…I mean, the world _is _different now. But your family loves you. So long as they're respectful, it'll be okay. Just don't let them pull any passive aggressive shit. That's what my parents did. I mean, don't let them pull _any s_hit, but you know what I mean."

Beth had taken her hand and replied, "Be easier if you were there."

And Mason—queen of dodging and denial, Beth was quickly learning—merely said, "You don't need me for shit. You can handle anything."

She didn't know what was going to happen when Mason was well enough to travel. They didn't discuss it, but Beth hoped each kiss would sway her.

"Tomorrow we should probably try for some more food," Mason said now. They'd just finished dinner and tucked Ava into her blankets, and now sat tangled in the back surrounded by candles. "We're tapped out again."

"Those traps we set the other day might have somethin'."

"Yeah. We can…mmm."

Mason trailed off, her lips suddenly busy with other, more important matters.

They made out for a while, until Beth's mouth was sore and her heart drumming unfamiliar rhythms. Something was occurring to her. Not for the first time, but certainly the most overwhelming.

"Mason?" Beth said without quite pulling back from Mason's mouth.

"Mm?"

"Do you…do you think… Um, actually, never mind."

Mason paused, opening one eye. "Wait, what?"

"It's nothin'. It's stupid."

"No, Beth, if you…if something's wrong, you should tell me. Do you want to stop?"

"No, no, that's not it at all! I actually was thinkin', well…" She swallowed nervously. "Have you ever…ever…"

Mason raised an eyebrow. "Ever?"

Beth dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "_Done it_ with someone?"

Mason drew back. "What?"

"Cuz, um, cuz I haven't. I'm still a—a virgin."

"Beth, that's totally fine. Is that what you're worried about? You know I'm not…" Mason snatched her hands back, like she was suddenly afraid of touching Beth. "I never want you to do anything you don't want—"

"No, no, Mason, I—I _want _to."

They stared at each other a moment.

"Right now."

"Oh," Mason said weakly. "Right now, like—like _right now, _right now?"

Beth nodded, biting her lip.

She'd never done much of anything with anyone before. The closest was when one asshole ex-boyfriend copped a feel of her breasts while they were making out, but of course that wasn't the same at all. But it wasn't like she didn't think about it. Her friends used to joke that she was too innocent for that stuff, too much a choir girl, but…

Straddling Mason right now, hands tangled in her hair, she could admit she'd never felt more turned on.

She was tired of being the fucking choir girl.

"Do you want to?" she asked.

Mason eyed her flatly. "Beth, I'm a horny motherfucker sitting with a gorgeous woman on my lap, _of course _I want to. But I shouldn't…I mean… I just don't want you to do anything you'd regret later."

Beth saw it in her eyes then. That she still intended on leaving. And something like anger, or desperation, or _something_ flared in her belly. She narrowed her eyes.

"Whether I regret it or not is _my _decision."

Then, following some instinct she didn't even know she possessed, she rocked her hips, grinding against Mason. She grinned smugly as Mason's eyes rolled back.

"Ah—okay, okay, shit! But promise you'll tell me if you want to stop."

"Promise," Beth said and began to undress.

It was harder than she thought, laying herself bare before someone. But the way Mason looked at her made her feel safe, made her feel beautiful. She couldn't imagine doing this whole first time business with anyone else.

Though it was obvious Mason had done this before, she still seemed uneasy, and once she was completely naked, Beth realized why.

The scars. They weren't just contained to Mason's side. They were scattered all over, constellations on her thighs and hips, her calves, the tops of her arms. All places that were easily concealed.

Beth held out her wrist, exposing the scar there. Mason blinked in shock.

"Did…you do that?"

Beth nodded. "When we were still on the farm. I…couldn't face things. At first. But then I changed my mind."

After a moment, Mason nodded. "I'm glad you did."

Then, very gently, she kissed the scar. And above the scar, and higher and higher up Beth's arm until she reached her shoulder, her collarbone, her neck.

Beth trembled a little. Mason hummed under her breath.

"I've got you, beautiful, don't worry."

At the feel of Mason's mouth on her breasts, her legs turned to jelly.

Mason laid her down on the seat, exploring her body with her lips, her tongue. Her hands roved up and down, awakening Beth's nerve endings in a way that surprised her with the strength of it. She had to keep reminding herself to keep quiet.

This resolve nearly crumbled completely when Mason's fingers found their way between Beth's thighs. At the last second, she bit back the sound she might've made.

Mason chuckled. "Well, someone's enjoying herself." Her finger moved slowly, torturously.

"J-jackass," Beth gasped.

"So I've been told."

She knelt on the floor, gently spread Beth's legs. Beth closed her eyes, content to let this moment last forever.

But Mason hesitated.

Beth opened her eyes. Mason wasn't looking at her anymore. She was staring at the floor.

"What's wrong?"

"I—I can't. Beth, I'm sorry. It's not you, I _want _to, but I just…"

Hurt twisted Beth's expression. Tears pricked her eyes but she blinked them away. Because when Mason finally looked up, the guilt on her face broke Beth's heart.

She held her arms out. "It's okay."

Mason climbed silently into her embrace. They laid there until the cold drove them back into their clothes.

~m~

"You wanna take the left, I'll take the right?"

Mason sounded more tentative than she intended, but she couldn't help it. She worried Beth was still frustrated about last night.

But Beth smiled. "Okay. See you in a bit."

"Holler if you need me."

They separated, taking different sides of the woods. Ava waved goodbye to Beth from her sling.

It didn't take long to reach one of the traps Beth taught her to set. It was empty, but there was a rabbit in the second one. Mason cut it free and tossed it in her pack. The third was empty as well, but at least she had something to bring back.

On her way back to Beth, she jarred to a stop, heart kicking with alarm.

Voices. Unfamiliar voices.

She drew her fire poker and crept forward, alert for any sign of Beth. They had to get back to the bus, now. Then they'd figure how to handle things after that. If they had to leave, then so be it. They could find another place.

Movement caught her eye. She ducked behind a tree before she was seen, but when she peeked out, the breath caught in her throat.

There was Beth, hugging a sobbing brunette woman, assuring her that she was alright. A young man smiled in relief at both of them.

Her group. Some of them, at least.

Something withered in Mason's stomach.

"Beth, Beth, what the _hell_ were you thinkin'?" the woman demanded, refusing to let go.

"I'm sorry, Maggie. I'm okay, I promise."

"We searched this area before for you," the man said. "Almost got lost the night that snowstorm kicked up."

Mason jolted. In her head she saw vague shadows, lit only by flashlights, moving through a swirl of white. She'd seen them that night. They'd passed by so close.

"We've been livin' in a bus. You must've just missed us," Beth said.

The woman—Maggie—finally drew back. "We?"

"Yeah. This girl I met. We—"

But Mason didn't stay to hear the rest of it. She was already running, back to the bus to grab what she could. Fear eddied through her, burying everything else, making it hard to breathe.

She was so stupid. She was so fucking stupid. She'd known this was coming and she'd still managed to dismiss it, put it off for another day.

And last night, she'd almost…

She made the right decision, stopping things before they got too far. Before Beth could regret her decision. Her first time needed to be with someone who wouldn't bolt, who hadn't always intended on it.

_Coward. You fucking coward._

But she couldn't. Beyond her new mistrust of strangers, she couldn't stay, couldn't risk getting to know people she was just going to lose, going to be responsible for. She was selfish and stupid for ever letting herself get involved with Beth. She was always going to Virginia.

And after that…after she knew Ava was somewhere safe…maybe she wouldn't stay there, either. Maybe she shouldn't stay anywhere. Maybe she ruined everyone and everything she came in contact with.

Tears blurred her vision as she swept through the bus, but she packed with furious speed. She couldn't allow herself to hesitate, to look back.

"Macie?" Ava whimpered, touching Mason's wet cheek.

"It's okay, baby girl," Mason said, hopping back outside. "We're going home, okay? We're going home."

She almost kept up her resolve as she stumbled through the woods. But in one weak moment, she looked back.

She saw no one. She was glad she didn't. She didn't think she could handle seeing Beth's face.

_I'm so sorry._

She did what she did best and fled.

**A/N: Yeah, so I know technically, canonically BoTW wouldn't exist at this point (I think the outbreak started in 2012...? or something like that). But. Eh. Let's just pretend it did lol Anyway, next chapter we'll be returning to present time, and we'll get to see more of Beth and Mason's reunion and other fun stuff. So anyway! Until next time xoxo**


	9. Don't Get Too Close

**A/N: So it's been a little while. If you're still with me, big thanks. This chapter's song is "Don't Get Too Close" by Nathaniel Rateliff. Enormous thanks to you guys reading and reviewing, it always means a lot to me and I'm glad to hear your feedback. **

9\. Don't Get Too Close

Mason was ninety-six percent certain Ezekiel wanted to feed her to Shiva. Not that she could blame him. In any case, she wasn't sure if that wouldn't be the best decision for everyone at this point.

Rick had indeed returned seeking an explanation to all Mason had confessed to Eugene. They stood before the stage now, just the two of them. Daryl waited outside with—with Beth.

"Rick Grimes of Alexandria," Ezekiel said. Cordiality stretched taut over his disapproval. "As a figurehead myself, I understand your disquiet at this revelation. However, my Champion, though charitable in intention, is ill-judged in disclosing this insight with you."

"Well, I would think you'd want us to be aware of a potential threat. As _allies_," Rick replied. "You invested your people and your supplies. Just makes sense to protect your investment. Either way, I need to protect _my _family, and I'm not leaving here without answers."

Ezekiel's eyes tightened. Shiva paced restlessly behind his throne, as if roused by the tension in the room.

"There are more communities than yours, Rick. One such commonwealth exists several miles east. The Saviors, they have so titled themselves."

Mason flinched.

"It is true that our two communities clashed but one year past. It is also true that the war is ended, and that they leave us alone for the most part. We have tailored an agreement to link our communities now in peace."

"Peace?" Rick repeated, glancing at Mason. She hoped nothing showed on her face. "That's not how your Champion made it sound."

"I suspect she misspoke in her desire to convey that, while we may have hewn a deal with them, it remains that these people are dangerous. I would advise you, Rick, to stay away from them. Do everything in your power to keep from discovery. Generous is not a word I would use to describe them."

"If these Saviors are so dangerous, how is it your people know nothing about them?"

In the brief silence that followed, Mason could feel Ezekiel seething at how much she'd revealed. And it wasn't even all of it. A laugh bubbled bleakly in her throat.

"How I run my Kingdom is not your concern," he said lowly. "Suffice it to say that those among my people who know the truth know also that our current arrangement is most beneficent. They know it is unwise to foster the shadows of a darker age."

This last was aimed at her. She breathed through her nose and kept her thoughts to herself.

Rick watched them for a long time. Mason felt Eugene's eyes on her, but she couldn't look at him. It only reminded her that Beth was outside, waiting for her, which made her a little sick to her stomach.

Finally, Rick nodded. "I'll discuss these Saviors with my council, Ezekiel, but none of my people will mention a thing to anyone here. That's what you're concerned about, right? Keeping your people in the dark?"

It was clear from his tone that he didn't respect this decision, but his experience as a leader kept him from trying to tell Ezekiel how to deal with things.

Ezekiel dipped his head. "It is."

"Well, so long as you keep your word, I'll keep mine."

"I always keep my word. Now, Jerry, if you wouldn't mind showing our guests out for a moment. I would like a word with my Champion."

Jerry hopped off stage to lead them out; from the set of his jaw, it was clear he had a few choice words for her as well.

And Mason couldn't help it. Her eyes flashed to Eugene, just long enough to find him looking back at her with concern. She offered him a tiny smile that was probably more of a cringe and stifled the urge to follow him.

The moment the door closed behind them, Ezekiel faced her.

"What the fuck is this, Mason?" His voice was low, no longer the medieval lilt. Too pissed to bother. "You bring these strangers around, pledge yourself to them, tell them shit we bleed and sacrifice for every day to keep from our _own _people?"

"Um—to be fair, I didn't tell them _everything_. Just—"

"Don't. Don't play me with that fair bullshit. _You _broke your vow. Do you realize how _irresponsible _that is? You put everyone here in danger."

"You know that's not what I was trying to do. And I wouldn't have done it if I thought we couldn't trust Rick and his group."

"That's not your decision, Mason. I know you want to help these people, but you have a duty to your own community first. You're their Champion."

_I'm _your _Champion, _she wanted to say. The rest of the Kingdom wanted nothing to do with her; whether or not she was loyal held no sway on that opinion.

She didn't say it. She knew how fragile it was, everything they'd built. She'd agreed to the sacrifices, and the hits she'd taken were hers. But she was tired. To her bones, she was tired.

"Ezekiel, I'm sorry. It's just…you've said before that the more allies we have—_real _allies—the better off we'll be. I didn't mean to go back on my word, and I wasn't trying to undermine you. But they deserve to know the Saviors are out there. I wish someone had been around to warn us."

Slowly, the fire faded from his eyes. He sighed. "You know I can't disagree with you. And I understand how you feel. I know you hate the lies. But I need to know I can trust you. None of this is ideal anymore, but we managed to make something good anyway. We need to protect that, at all costs."

She flushed with shame. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I never want you to think you can't trust me."

"I trust you always have the best intentions," he said, and smiled slightly. "Just not always the most restraint."

They sat in silence for a moment. Shiva finally settled down behind them, but her eyes were wide and unblinking, taking in everything.

"I'll take responsibility for this arrangement, if anything goes south," Mason spoke up. "I'll run reconnaissance between the two groups to make sure there's no spilling the beans. They seem like good people, though. I think they understand, you know, what it takes to keep things going these days."

Ezekiel nodded. He spoke again in the voice of the King. "Thank you, my Champion. From now on, no more surprises. I have every desire to help these people where I can, but it cannot come at the cost of the framework of our realm."

She bowed her head. "Yes, your Majesty. May I take my leave now?"

"Go, and send Rick back to me. The finer details of our barter require some attention."

So she went, swapping one dread with another. She couldn't imagine how to face Beth now, but she was out of places to run.

~m~

When Mason exited the theater, Beth was struck all over again by the sight of her. She'd filled out with muscle and looked much healthier than her scrawny days in Georgia. There were more scars now, in visible places that made Beth think they were the result of fights; there were tattoos on her arms and peeking out from the hem of her shorts.

She was so beautiful. Memories hadn't done her justice.

But it was more complicated than just missing her. There would be no sorting through the emotions roiling in her stomach until she actually talked to Mason.

Daryl elbowed her. The two of them leaned against the wall of the theater, idly watching Rick, Eugene and Jerry discuss whatever they were discussing a few yards off.

"There's ya girl."

"Yeah, I have eyes, Daryl." Nervousness detached her from the proper sarcasm.

"Crabby. Better snatch her before Eugene does."

She narrowed her eyes. It didn't escape her notice, the furtive glances Eugene cast Mason as she approached Rick, or the way Mason twitched her head in Eugene's direction, like she couldn't resist the urge. It sent an unpleasant spasm through that storm of emotion in Beth's guts.

Rick nodded at whatever Mason said, and that's when she turned and saw Beth. Her face went blank before she walked over.

"I'll leave you to it," Daryl murmured and drifted away.

Initially, when Beth had gotten out of the car, there was a breathless moment of shock before Mason wrapped her in a tight embrace. Clutching at her in disbelief, breathing her name like the lyrics to a forgotten song. At least until Rick reminded them that they were there on official business, and there hadn't been time for much else.

Now Mason stopped a few feet away, like she was practicing restraint.

"Hey."

_Hey? That's all you have to say after all this time? After everything we went through, and then you just…left me in the woods?_

Outraged, Beth crafted the perfect response.

"Hey."

Well, maybe not the _perfect_ response.

"How'd it go in there?"

Mason shrugged. "Well, I wasn't fed to any tigers, so I'll call it a win."

Eugene had already told her about Shiva, so Beth didn't take it as a figure of speech like she might have otherwise. Instead she nodded and said, "Gettin' eaten by a tiger is…is hardly ever good."

"Uh. Not usually, nope."

Silence fell. The awkwardness irritated her. She was about to demand they broach the ugly subject when Mason motioned to the gate.

"Do you wanna go for a walk?" she asked. "I can show you around when we get back, but I just figure…we can…you know."

"Okay."

Once they were outside the Kingdom and it was just the two of them, every argument and accusation Beth had stored up fizzled out. Despite the anger, the confusion, her stomach fluttered being this close to Mason again.

They walked in silence for a while, and Beth began to wonder if either of them would ever speak.

"So," she finally forced herself to say. "You found them."

Mason jumped, like she hadn't really expected any conversation. "Huh?"

"Ava's family."

"Oh. Some of them. The others…died fighting for this place."

"I'm sorry."

Mason shrugged, but her eyes brightened. "She'll be excited to see you."

Beth smiled. "Me, too. I missed her."

_I missed you._

But it seemed nearly impossible to say this now.

"I really like your hair," she said, in an effort to keep the conversation from lagging. She eyed a scar that ran the length of the shaved side. "It's much better than that chop job you had goin' on back in Georgia."

Mason snorted. "Hey, it wasn't _that _bad considering I had to cut it with a pair of rusty-ass garden shears."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Beth?"

"Hm?"

"I…" Mason slowed to a stop. She stared straight ahead as she spoke, and her voice came out in a whisper. "I'm so sorry."

Beth stopped, too, straightening her spine so her resolve wouldn't waver. "For what?"

"Please don't do that. You know what."

"But you still can't say it." The anger rushed in, making her chest ache. "I don't know why I'm surprised. Even in the bus, all that time we spent together, you could never look me in the eye and just admit you were still plannin' on leavin'."

"I _did _tell you. Right from the start."

"Alright, I'll be more specific." Beth clenched her jaw. Her arms shook. "After we kissed. After I told you things about me I hadn't told _anyone _before. After we almost—"

The words choked off, and Mason flinched.

"I'm sorry," she said again. Her voice was thicker. Tears welled in her eyes but she quickly blinked them away. "I had to get Ava here. I couldn't stay."

"And you couldn't be honest with me either? You had to run?" Tears stung the back of her throat, but she refused them. "Do you have any idea what it was like, goin' back to that bus and you're just…gone? And then realizin' you didn't give enough of a crap to say goodbye, or just—just _apologize_?"

"It—it wasn't like that. I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted that. I saw your family that day and I just lost it, I…I was afraid. I was terrified."

"Of _what_?"

Mason shook her head at the ground. "Everything, Beth. Everything."

Silence fell. There was so much more to say but Beth couldn't find the words for any of it.

After a moment, Mason sniffed. Cleared her throat. Looked up without quite looking at Beth.

"I'm sorry for running away. I'm sorry for leaving you, and letting you think I didn't respect you. I'm sorry for not telling you the truth."

Beth sagged. All the pent-up frustration, all the hurt, fractured somewhere in her chest. She was just…tired. She couldn't expect Mason to make up for all of it in a single conversation. All she could do was forgive her or not, and time would show the rest.

"I know you weren't tryin' to hurt me." She allowed a little smile. "Jackass."

Mason huffed a hesitant laugh, but when Beth reached out to hold her hand, she went silent and drew back.

Beth blinked. It was quiet for a moment before she said, "We're gonna have to start over, aren't we?"

"I think so, yeah."

It didn't surprise her, really. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew things couldn't just pick up where they'd left off. At least they had the chance to start again.

She sighed. "Well. In that case…is your favorite color still purple?"

Mason looked up then, bewildered. "I— Um, yes. And yours? Is it still yellow, or maybe blue, you're not sure?"

It sent an absurd thrill through her stomach, that Mason remembered after all this time. She grinned.

"Yep. Still not sure."

Mason's answering smile was tentative, but it was a start.

~m~

Eugene wasn't particularly eager to be alone with his thoughts, so he did what anyone would do: translated every song he could think of into first Spanish, and then French. It was late; the only ones out were the watch shift. He thought being back home would've made him feel less alone, but here in the dark, it was stronger than ever.

He rubbed his arm uneasily, that particular spot just above his wrist. It was a while since he'd leaned so heavily on a nocturnal schedule, but it was frightening how easily he fell back into it...

The creak of a porch swing drew his attention, and the person sitting in it drew him to a halt.

The house he stood outside of was the one Beth shared with Maggie and Glenn, and he had passed it and its empty porch several dozen times in his circuit around the community. But now there was Mason, absently swinging and looking about as lost as he felt.

He hesitated on the edge of the light cast by the window. She looked so exhausted. A deep, quiet instinct pressed him to go to her, to ask if he could help, but…he ignored it. He didn't want to bother her with everything that was probably on her mind.

When he made to retreat, however, her voice stopped him.

"Hey."

He turned back and she smiled in a strange way. Relieved, yet sad.

"Hey." Awkwardness flushed his cheeks with heat. "Sorry."

"Why?"

"It was not my intention to disturb you."

Her lips twitched; Eugene got the irrational but insistent feeling she was fighting a more genuine smile.

"Too late." She patted the spot next to her. "Wanna join me? I'm just sitting, being boring, but you can sit and be boring with me."

He needed no more invitation than that. She scooted to the side to leave a gap between them, and so he did as well. Her expression became grateful, though she stared at her feet.

"What are you doing up so late?" she asked.

No way he could tell her the whole truth. He settled for something more vague.

"Thinking some long thoughts. I cannot claim to know what to do with myself when they won't silence themselves long enough to get some sleep, so I figure better to be moving than lying still."

She nodded. "That's why I run. At all hours, even back before all this. Which is partly why I got so into self-defense, because there's some sketchy-ass people out past midnight. And speaking of…" False cheer brightened her face as she turned to him. "You ready to officially start your training tomorrow?"

Before today, he might've answered yes, unequivocally. But given the change in circumstance…

"I have never been more ready, ma'am," he lied. "And where are your feelings on this new arrangement?"

Immediately he regretted the question, and considered stammering his way out of it.

But Mason shrugged and mumbled, "Well, it's nice getting out of the Kingdom for a while."

She'd agreed to live part-time in Alexandria, so that there would be another support system within the Safe Zone aside from rotating shifts of Knights. Ezekiel was willing to help with the Wolves, but not at the cost of his Kingdom; he wanted enough people there to defend it if the need arose. After a few days, Mason would return home, and Eugene had agreed to go with her, so as to continue his training uninterrupted.

Beth, too, would join them. It was another reason for the alternating shifts. Denise needed another set of hands in the infirmary, so Beth couldn't be away for long, but she'd insisted on lessons as soon as she learned of Eugene's. It was a logical, if convoluted, solution to the delicate state of things, but Eugene couldn't feel anything but nervous about it.

"I don't know how happy Beth is about it," Mason went on, then shut her mouth tight, like she hadn't meant to say it.

Eugene buried a flinch. He didn't particularly want to discuss Beth at the moment. As a friend, he was happy they were getting the chance to reconnect, he just…wasn't keen on knowing the details.

Still, he asked, "Do you…that is, it's none of my business, but if you think it would help to talk about it…? Cards on the table, most do not find me the best conversationalist, but I will listen regardless."

She deliberated a moment, bouncing one leg. And then it all came spilling out of her—her journey cross-country with Ava, meeting Beth in Georgia, and running when things got too serious.

"And I don't know how to make up for that," she finished. "Not just for leaving, but for not…telling her outright. That I never meant to stay."

Eugene wasn't sure what to say. He'd yet to figure out how to make up for that kind of shit either.

"There were so many times I wanted to. Or, well, I never _wanted _to, but it wasn't like there weren't a bunch of opportunities. But every time I tried it was like…"

"Like you were physically incapable of doing so?"

Something glimmered in her eyes. "Yeah."

"I get it."

"It wasn't right." Her voice was so small.

"I am not saying it was right. I'm saying I understand." In fact, he could understand that feeling with significant depth. "In any case, you are here, and she is here, and there is no way forward _but _forward. Someone once told me that you are not your past unless you choose to be, and those words were so wise I am considering taking credit for them."

She laughed briefly. "Yeah, well…stick around, and you'll see that I'm shittiest at taking my own advice."

"Well, if I take credit for it, then would you consider it the advice of a friend instead?"

"Maybe."

It seemed there was less discontent in her voice than before. She was smiling, at least.

"Thank you, Eugene. I didn't mean to just unload on you like that."

"It was no hardship on my end. I greatly enjoy talking to you, Miss Mason."

Her smile lingered a moment longer, her eyes holding his, and as the silence went on he wondered if she was leaning closer to say something else, perhaps something that required a lower tone. But finally she cleared her throat and looked away.

"We, um, should probably try to get some sleep. I'm not a morning person, so we won't have to start too early, but I'm planning on a full day otherwise."

"Yes, ma'am."

Stiffly, he rose from the swing and descended the porch steps. But he paused on the pavement below.

"I am no wizard at life and I cannot claim any expertise in navigating it," he said. "But I believe that while you exist, there will always be something to regret. There is not a one of us these days without regrets. That there is the truth, that's as cold and hard as it comes. So…at least if you are a fuck-up, you are in good company."

She grinned. "That's some good-ass advice. I may have to take credit for it."

"Happy to be of service." He threw her a lazy salute. "Goodnight, Miss Mason."

"'Night, Eugene."

On the walk back to his house, his head was crowded with little things. The breeze brushing Mason's hair across her cheek. The way she talked with her hands. The sound of her laugh. Each one jabbed him just a little.

Sleep came more quickly than he expected, but it was not the heavy unconsciousness he craved.

He dreamt he was on a beach, watching the stars come out. Mason lay there next to him, perfectly at ease.

She smiled and said, "I missed you."

It didn't make sense. He said, "I'm right here."

She just laughed and replied, "It's nice to meet you all over again", before the scene shifted.

He was standing at the side of a road back in Georgia. He recognized it; it was the place he'd first met Glenn and Tara. From the nearby cornfield, walkers advanced and he raised his gun, the foreign weight of it unwieldy and dangerous in his hands. He fired into the herd, missing nearly all of them.

Something came closer through the corn, arrowing through the stalks until it came into view. A figure, so grimy at first he assumed it to be a walker, too.

But it wielded something in its hand, and its movements were too graceful. It was a person, dressed in walker guts, swinging a weapon through the dead.

Swinging a fire poker.

He stared, frozen, as she fought her way to him. When her eyes met his, his heart thundered in his chest.

She opened her mouth. Opened her mouth and said—

He sat up in bed, clammy and shaking. He wasn't sure what time it was, but it was still dark.

"Move, dumbass," he gasped. That's what she'd been about to say.

He sat there for a moment, allowing his pulse to return to normal. There hadn't been anything sinister about the dream. It hadn't felt like a nightmare, but it had felt incredibly real. That was what jarred him awake, the feeling that he was awake already.

_It's just…nerves, _he reasoned. The stress of everything branding his dream with vividness, perhaps to sort through that stress or as some kind of escape.

_It's nice to meet you all over again._

With a groan, he fell back onto his pillow. Whatever the reason for the dream, there was no question his brain was an almighty asshole, and if it didn't let him get some peace and quiet for five fucking seconds…

Resigned, he practiced breathing techniques he'd searched the internet for once upon a time. And while at first he thought it wouldn't work, eventually he eased back into sleep, dreamless this time.

~m~

It took repeated efforts to wake Mason in the morning. Each time Beth thought she roused her, she would simply roll over with an incomprehensible grumble and be back to snoring in seconds. But eventually, Mason sat up from her nest of blankets on the floor and rubbed her eyes.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I just kinda loathe being…you know, conscious."

Beth sat on the edge of her bed, watching Mason reorient herself. She'd already dressed for the day, using the bathroom in case Mason woke up, and she was restless with waiting.

"How was it sleepin' down there?" she asked when the silence stretched on.

"It was like any other floor I've ever slept on."

"You should've slept up here. I would've made room."

It was a small bed, though, and Mason seemed determined to keep as much distance as possible. Beth tried not to let this irritate her. They were starting over. But it was hard when it was Mason who had put them in this position.

"You should eat some breakfast," Mason said. "Something small but hearty. It's gonna be a long day."

Beth was quiet for a moment, but those last few words made her heart twinge.

"Do you not wanna train me?"

Startled, Mason looked up. "Huh?"

"I mean, is…is it too soon? To be around each other."

"Oh. No. No, Beth, it's not too soon. It's gonna be a long day because it's gonna be a long day. It's hot as balls and we're all tired, but I have no problem training you." Then she blinked. "Do _you _think it's too soon to be around each other?"

"Of course not. I wouldn't share a room with you otherwise." She kicked her legs awkwardly. "I _missed _you, Mason."

Mason's eyes softened. "I missed you, too."

Beth grinned. "Good. I'll hurry and eat somethin' so we can start."

"Don't rush. I'm gonna give Eugene a little more time to sleep since I kept him up late last night. Talking." She added this last quickly in response to Beth's expression.

"That's where you were last night?"

"No. I mean, I was just sitting on the porch and he found me. We were just talking."

Beth stared at the floor. Something burned in her stomach. She wanted it out.

"Yesterday," she said quietly, "you said you weren't ready to try for a relationship right now. And that's probably best, and I'm fine with that." In truth, she really was. As much as she had missed Mason, there was just no way to start anything with this gap between them.

"You said you wanted to wait, and fix things before that."

"Yeah…"

"So it's not because of Eugene?"

Mason blinked. "What? N-no, I just… I'm not ready to be with anyone just yet. I have a really shitty track record and I need to get that in order first. And besides, there's just…too much shit going on to concentrate on that right now."

She glanced away, and Beth sensed there was more to the story, but she didn't press her. She was right, anyway. It couldn't be a priority with the Wolves at their doorstep. She was just tired of her heart hurting.

"I'm sorry," she sighed. "I know this is hard for you, too. And you're right, I know you are. But I—I finally found you after all this time, and I'm still tryin' to wrap my head around all of it, I'm… I'm just tryin' to understand."

Mason offered a weak smile. "Me, too."

There was little else to be said on the matter, or at least little else they felt they should say at the moment. Beth was well aware there were dozens more conversations to be had before things were better.

~m~

Mason let Beth lead the way, too distracted to remember where she was supposed to be going. No matter what she told herself, she couldn't settle her nerves.

_So it's not because of Eugene?_

She flinched. It wasn't. It wasn't. She just wasn't good at relationships; that was nothing but the truth. She'd told Beth the truth.

Okay, so maybe she _had _been thinking of asking Eugene on…whatever the hell a date passed for these days. At least after this Wolf business, to see if maybe the way her heart skipped around him could lead anywhere. But now she was thinking clearer, it was ridiculous. She'd sworn off relationships for a reason. They were complicated and painful—hadn't Gina taught her that? And now, with the way things were, and…and all that she had done…

It was better for now if she were just their friend. Kept her distance enough to stay her feelings and then…go from there.

She snapped back to the present as they climbed the steps to one of Alexandria's many enormous houses. Eugene was waiting for them. He nodded to her but said nothing of their talk last night, which she appreciated. She wished she'd been smart enough not to mention it. Beth's face was unreadable, but in the practiced way of one hiding their thoughts.

It didn't quite dawn on her until they reached the courtyard, and Beth and Eugene faced her. That she was going to train them. Both. At the same time. And how incredibly difficult it was going to be, maintaining a safe distance…

"Um." Her voice came out higher than she intended. "I'm gonna lead you through some basic stretches and a few laps around the neighborhood, so we can get warmed up. Then a quick sparring session, just to see where you're both at."

"What, you mean…sparrin' each other?" Beth asked. She and Eugene glanced at each other, and something flashed between them that had Mason fidgeting.

"N-no. Spar with me. I'll get a more accurate feel that way. Does that sound okay?"

They both nodded. She swallowed hard.

"Then let's get to work."

**A/N: So I know this chapter was short, kinda filler-y, but I hope it was still enjoyable. For those of you who aren't fans of the whole "love triangle" stuff, I promise I'm not gonna draw it out painfully long. I've analyzed and re-analyzed the plot of this to death, and it just was the most logical path for the story to take at this point. In any case, whenever I write love triangles, I always try to justify them and make them as authentic as possible, instead of just...drama for drama's sake lol Anyway, there will be a lot more action and general chaos in the next chapter because it'll be our first real Alpha chapter, which I'm really looking forward to. Anyway, thanks a ton for reading! Much love to you all xoxo**


	10. The Gospel of John Hurt

**A/N: Howdy, folks! So this is the Alpha chapter, but I ended up having to split it into two parts because otherwise it would've been ridiculously long. Also, trigger warning for things getting pretty gory and violent in parts, for cult behavior, brief mention of drug use and self-harm. And a small warning for Alpha just being a horrible person. Today's chapter song is "The Gospel of John Hurt" by alt-J, which I think fits pretty well. Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing, it means the world to me. Hope you enjoy!**

10\. The Gospel of John Hurt

In town, it was never quiet. The dead just refused to ever fucking shut up.

Night or day made little difference. The rotted cunts roamed back and forth through the streets, growling and moaning in their eternal search for food. She ordered her Wolves to use as many of them as they could, in traps or experiments or wherever the hell else they might serve their purpose. But short of spending every hour of every day dispatching them, there was nothing for it but to coexist.

It was getting a little old.

It was also exactly why she was starting to hate those Alexandrians about as much as she hated Negan. Which was to say, quite a fucking bit.

Restless, she sat up in bed, jostling the form next to her. She couldn't remember this one's name. It was something starting with a C…Claire? Callie? Christa? Whatever. She was a new recruit. Enticed to the group with the promise of pills, and convinced she was safe by the things Alpha could do with her tongue.

As of late, of course, they were running a bit short on their usual drug supply, thanks to those two little shits at the hospital. But Alpha could admit—privately—that that was also partially her fault. She'd given the okay to use the real pills versus fakes on the idea that anyone looking for such high-quality drugs would know the difference.

And she'd counted on whoever attempted to steal them to, you know, not escape. She didn't know when she'd become so overconfident in her Wolves but that was clearly a mistake.

"What's going on?" Cora…no, Caroline…C-cup, Average Ass asked.

"Shut up and sleep or get out," Alpha replied, too tired to pretend she gave a shit. Dressing quickly, she exited her apartment.

From the slant of the sun through the stairwell windows, it was a little past noon, the earliest she'd woken up in a while. Work now demanded she spend most of her waking hours by moonlight.

She made her way down to the fifth floor, not bothering to knock as she strode into one of the apartments.

Murph was in his converted office, hunched diligently over dozens of papers that made little sense to Alpha. His gray hair was unkempt as it always was, but his eyes retained their youth.

She leaned next to the window overlooking his desk. "Any progress?"

"Well, Miss, I'm starting to think there may not be any more progress to make at this point." He didn't look up as he spoke, too busy scribbling his incoherent notes.

"Really? You seem pretty preoccupied for someone with nowhere left to go."

Before he could reply, a woman bounced into the room. Her brown curls were matted as usual, tangled with leaves and mud, her pale face painted with smears of decayed blood. The energy she exuded was always just a little too much to deal with.

"Mornin', Alpha—or I guess it's afternoon. I'm glad I found you! I scrounged up two more today!"

"Two more what? Chill pills? That's a relief."

She laughed. "You're such a kidder. No, specimens! Copperheads, in fact."

"Nice additions," Murph mumbled, eyes darting back and forth over the pages.

"Coyote, why the hell are you telling me this? Stick to procedure. Take them down to the basement for extraction. You don't need to bore me with a play-by-play each time you have a little adventure."

"Because I have other news. I'm pretty sure it's somethin' you'll wanna hear." She raised her eyebrows enticingly.

Alpha sighed. "What?"

"Well, I was close enough, I figured I'd check in on Alexandria."

This wasn't unusual. Alpha had ordered all of her Wolves to keep tabs, whether they were assigned reconnaissance or not. Running any errands pretty much meant a stop by either the Sanctuary or the Safe Zone.

"Looks like there really is an alliance between them and the Kingdom. Your Mason was at the Safe Zone, training two of 'em. One was that blonde girl from the hospital."

Alpha stilled, muscles going rigid. Fuck.

"And the other one?"

"I don't know. We've seen him before, don't know his name. He's the big one with the mullet."

She nodded. "Training them to fight?"

"Yep."

Given the Kingdom's relationship to the Saviors, there was only one other reason they would be forging this alliance, that Mason would be teaching some of them to fight. Apparently their help with the most recent attack wasn't just a one-time thing.

"They're getting ready to fight us."

Coyote's brow furrowed. "Didn't we already know that…?"

Alpha curled her lip. "The Kingdom, you idiot. The Kingdom."

"Oh. Yeah, probably. But that doesn't mean they couldn't use this alliance for other things."

"She's right." Murph finally looked up, rubbing his bushy gray mustache. "It's bad news, of course, for our efforts, but—"

"_Bad news_? That's three communities now. _Three fucking communities _we're at war with."

And it had to be _hers_. It had to be the Kingdom, the one they'd left alone for a reason.

Murph cringed. "W-well, yes, Miss, but… Maybe with these new allies, the Kingdom will feel confident in challenging Negan's regime? And even if that's not the case, well… You asked me how I could seem so preoccupied when I've hit a wall as far as my research. It's because I think I may have found something else, something more than potential leverage. Now, it'll take time, but—"

"What does 'time' mean? A month? A year? I need something today."

"I'm sorry, Miss. This will take significant time, depending on…well, sheer luck. But if my theory is correct, it will be worth it to invest that time."

His face was earnest, his gaze steady. He didn't quail before her anger like he normally would.

After a beat of silence, she said, "Tell me."

_**Four years prior, by approximation of moon cycles**_

"Come on!" Mason called from below the window.

Before Gina could make a move to follow, the dresser crashed behind her and the cacophony of the dead drowned the room.

Gina snarled and dropped Naomi's limp frame. She spun on instinct, grabbed Will's corpse and tossed him to the invading dead.

Most took the bait, giving her time to yank a drawer out of the tipped dresser and start swinging. It was more unwieldy than the poker, but it did the job.

"Nick!" she shouted. "Prop up that fucking mattress, make yourself useful!"

She didn't look back to see if he listened. The dead feasted on Will, but more and more stumbled through the door, fixated on Gina.

"Out of the way, out of the way!"

She jumped back as Nick charged forward with the mattress and slammed it against the doorway. The dead resisted, bowing the mattress with their weight. Nick clenched his teeth, every muscle in his wiry body straining to keep them back.

"Hold it," Gina ordered. "Hold it for a minute."

She took out the rest of the dead in the room, including the ones distracted by Will, then righted the dresser and shoved it and her own body up against the mattress.

"Now what?" Nick said.

"The window," Gina replied.

"I don't think we can get Naomi out that way. At least, not with enough time to get away from the dead."

Frustration boiled her blood. They should just leave Naomi behind. Fucking dead weight.

Nick apparently read this in her face.

"You crazy bitch," he hissed. "We are _not _leaving her behind!"

"Relax, fuck… I'm just considering every option."

"That's not a fucking option, Gina."

"_Alright_, alright."

She rearranged her features into the mask she normally wore. The current predicament had stripped her of it, but she couldn't afford for Mason's friends to see what lay underneath. Until she and Mason were together again, she had to keep in their good graces. The end of the world hadn't changed that.

"Window's still our best bet," she said. "If we can climb onto the roof, get a better view…maybe there's a place where the herd is thinner. Mason made it out but only because she's fast. Naomi will be too slow."

Nick eyed her shrewdly, angrily, but after a beat he nodded. "Who's going first?"

In the end he did, after arguing that he'd be the only one able to pull Naomi onto the roof. Gina kept her mouth shut, but if it looked like Naomi was going to drag them down, she'd dump her into the herd herself. Call it an unfortunate accident.

They added the box spring to the makeshift barricade, though they knew it would only hold for so long. Gina guarded the door while Nick perched on the windowsill and hoisted himself up.

"Okay," he called. "Send Naomi!"

She was only half-conscious, so it was an effort getting her to the window. The dead snarled below, pawing uselessly at the siding like they might Spiderman their way to the second floor.

Gina shook Naomi. "Listen to me," she hissed. "You need to be alert now, right fucking now, or those corpses are eating your ass, and I don't mean in the fun way."

Naomi blinked blearily. "Mason… Did she make it out?"

"Yeah, she did. And the only way you're seeing your kid again is if you focus for the next five minutes."

Thankfully Naomi seemed to hear her, though she could only offer so much strength. Gina kept her steady as she climbed onto the sill and pushed her toward the roof. Nick grabbed her arms and pulled, apologizing each time she cried out in pain. Gina gritted her teeth, straining to keep her own balance as well as Naomi's. The barricade creaked. The moans of the dead grew louder by inches.

Finally, Naomi made it up top with one last snarl of determination. Nick leaned over the side and offered his hand to Gina.

"Alright, come on."

But Gina hesitated. She glanced back at Will's half-eaten body.

She remembered Mason looking horribly out of place in her parents' mansion, showing them how they could recycle milk cartons and celery hearts to grow new plants. It was advice her parents never took—Mason was too "charmingly lower-middle class" to take seriously—but it stuck with Gina. And it prodded her now, because there was a reason Mason had made it this far, there was a reason she'd made it out of this house.

"Use everything you can use," she muttered and darted for the body.

Her eyes stayed fixed on the barricade as she dragged him to the window. It wobbled precariously, rotted arms and faces peeking out from around the edges.

"What the hell are you doing?" Nick demanded as she leaned again out the window.

"Take him," she replied and lifted Will as high as she could. Guts spilled onto her head and rolled down her shoulders.

"_What the fuck, Gina—_"

"_Fucking take him_!"

Something crashed behind her, probably the dresser. Nick growled and yanked Will's body up with him and Naomi, dripping blood on the dead below. It made them frantic.

Gina scrambled onto the windowsill just as the barricade toppled. The dead flooded the room. She leapt, hands scraping shingles before plunging into the gutter. It groaned under her weight, snapping at three different seams and dousing her with stagnant water. She spluttered, trying to feel out the wall with her feet.

Hands gripped her ankles, nearly yanking her down. She kicked furiously, smashing the top half of the window and raining glass on the corpses. The gutter sagged lower.

Then Nick was there, dragging her past the guttering and onto the roof.

She lay for a moment, catching her breath. Naomi was passed out a few feet away, covered in blood and sweat. Will's blood rolled down the incline and over the edge.

Finally she sat up, examining the horde. Apparently the commotion had drawn more of them over to this side of the house.

"Well," she said. "We're not getting down that way for sure now."

Nick crouched next to her. "Yeah, you're welcome."

"For what?"

"Saving your fucking life."

_Oh, Christ, don't get your ass in a knot._

But she turned and blinked at him with wide eyes, unleashing the full force of her mask. He drew back a little in surprise.

"Nick," she said. "I'm sorry. _Thank _you. I—I'm not…I'm not thinking very clearly right now. All I can think is that Mason's out there. That's all I care about. And when I'm worried I can get kinda…bitchy."

She faked a vulnerable laugh, loathing herself for it. But Nick ate it up.

He put a hand on her shoulder. "We'll find her. I'm worried about her, too, and the baby. But we can't let that separate _us _right now. We're all each other has, and we're _all _getting out of this."

Swallowing her disgust, she nodded. "Oh, I know. I'm sorry about that back there…you know, with Naomi. It wasn't even a serious thought, just trying to be prepared for anything."

"You don't have to prepare for that. Because you and I are going to make sure the three of us stay alive."

He went to tend to Naomi while Gina walked the perimeter of the roof. Around front was the clearest, only about five-deep. Unfortunately, the truck was swarmed, and Gina didn't think they'd be able to draw enough away to get to it. Well, they could find a new ride. The truck was just loaded down with baby crap anyway.

But maybe she could turn that congregation to their favor.

"Okay," she said. "I know none of us is gonna like this idea, but…we need to get out of here. And Will's already dead."

Nick stared at her. Naomi lay with her head in his lap, eyes closed, breathing labored.

"You want to drop his body," he said flatly.

"Yes."

He sighed through his nose. In the pause, Gina stifled an eye roll.

_Why can't you ever just act like you actually have a pair?_

Finally he shook his head. "You're right. I don't like it. But I don't think we're getting past them without a distraction, and we can't wait here to come up with a better plan. She needs water and anticoagulants and—and _Renee. _We need to find the others."

"Do you really think they're still around?"

"They wouldn't abandon us."

"No, not if they thought we were still alive. But they saw us disappear into that herd. I'm just saying, they could very well think we're dead."

But Nick ignored her, murmuring in Naomi's ear until her eyes fluttered open. Gina dragged Will's body to the front of the house while he got her on her feet.

She and Nick heaved the body over the side, just past the front door and the truck. Their trajectory was off, but only by a little; it was difficult to keep a good grip on his limbs, slippery with blood as they were.

Nick jumped first so he could catch Naomi, and Gina followed after. They were granted just enough time to make it to the ground before the herd gave chase.

With Naomi as slow as she was, it was a miracle they made it anywhere in one piece. Luckily there were enough fences and suburban trappings to eventually lose their pursuers.

It took an eternity to trace back to the street where they split from the others. Aside from a handful of cold corpses, nothing waited for them.

"Now what?" Gina asked, readjusting her grip around Naomi's waist.

Nick didn't answer, turning in circles like he might find clues in the tire marks striping the pavement or the trash drifting in the breeze.

"_Hello_?"

"They're around," he said. "We just have to look for them."

Gina huffed. "Where? We don't know this place. If Mason were here, sure, but otherwise we are _lost_."

"We'll figure it out." He raised his eyes to the approaching dead. "Come on. Let's just look around for a bit. Get off this street. They have to be somewhere nearby."

~m~

But they were nowhere. They searched long into the night, stopping only to scavenge a small pharmacy for Naomi and let her rest a bit. After a time, they made their way back to the house, sure Mason would've come back for them.

And it looked like she had. The truck was gone, at least, as well as the walkers. There was a rather impressive pile of them by an old car in the front yard, but when they searched the house they found nothing but what they'd left themselves.

"She thinks we're dead, too," Nick murmured.

Gina nodded, quelling her rising ire. Mason was loyal to the point of idiocy. She wouldn't have left unless she thought there was nothing else she could do.

"Find a car," she said. "That's our next play. And then we find them. We know where they were going. I'm tired of dicking around in this town."

"I don't know." He stepped closer and lowered his voice. "Naomi's not doing so good. I think we need to find a place to take care of her."

Gina breathed deeply, so that when she spoke it didn't come out as a scream. "And where do you suggest we do that?"

"Maybe that pharmacy. For now. It had supplies, at least, and some of the stuff Naomi's gonna need to recover."

So that was where they holed up for the night.

And stayed for the next three months.

~m~

It wasn't planned. Nick convinced Gina to stay for the first month and a half, to let Naomi recover physically and emotionally. Postpartum hit her hard, made worse by the fact that they had yet to find a single trace of Mason or the baby. She was convinced they were dead, that maybe all of their group was, and that somehow it was her fault. She ate very little, which inhibited the healing process and forced them to stay even longer.

But it was the crying that made Gina want to gouge someone's eyes out. Naomi cried almost constantly, in between long bouts of unconsciousness. It made little difference that she disappeared to the bathroom or the other side of the pharmacy in an attempt to keep it private. She returned with red, puffy eyes that made Gina nearly irate with disgust.

Only the booze kept Gina from acting on impulse, leaving or screaming or smashing a window or something. The nearby liquor store provided plenty to keep her sedated.

She was drunk the day Nick stumbled through the front door, returned early from a water run. His hair plastered to his face with sweat, one hand clasped to his bleeding forearm.

Gina sat up, spilling her bottle of vodka. "Whoa, what the fuck…"

"I'm bit."

He stood trembling against the door. Shadows moved beyond the newspapers they'd stuck to the windows, growling and thumping at the glass.

"They bit me, I'm bit," he said again. His eyes were blank and wide.

Before Gina could respond, Naomi strode into view. Her eyes were inflamed as usual, but there was something new in them, something cool and still.

"Get down and lay your arm flat on the floor," she said.

"I—I've been bit."

"I know, Nick. Get down now."

He obeyed, his movements so clumsy with shock he more or less crumpled to the floor. Gina righted her bottle and staggered to her feet, staring as Naomi splayed Nick's arm as flat as she could. In her other hand, she held an axe they'd scavenged back when they first found the place.

"You're gonna cut it off?"

"It's the only option," Naomi replied. "Get me some gauze and some water and as many towels as you can find."

Normally she would've resented being ordered around, but…she wanted to see it, the amputation. And she was fascinated by the change in Naomi, how she pulled it out of thin air when it seemed she'd lost all backbone otherwise.

When she returned with the supplies, Nick was crying. Naomi stroked a hand through his hair, murmured soothingly. Apparently she hadn't lost that mothering instinct after all.

"Alright, Gina, I need you to hold him steady for me."

Nick whimpered but didn't protest. Gina braced herself against him, biting back an eager smile.

"It's okay, Nick," Naomi said and brought the axe down hard.

He bucked and screamed, so violently Gina had to curl herself around him and cross her arms over his mouth. The first chop had gone through nearly all the way, but there was still a bit of tendon connecting the lower half to the upper. Naomi breathed in through her nose and brought the axe down again.

Another scream, which quickly trickled into faint groaning. Blood spilled from the stump, spreading across the tiles in a wide circle.

"Get those towels on him," Naomi barked. "Lift his arm up, we need it elevated."

Fifteen minutes passed while they stymied the bleeding. Nick lay prone beneath them, letting out occasional groans as his consciousness flickered.

"Do you think we got it in time?" Gina asked.

"I don't know." Naomi glared at the stump, like she could will it better through determination.

"Well, I know one thing and that is that I am sobered the fuck up now."

Naomi grunted a laugh. "Yeah. Me, too."

Finally, the bleeding slowed enough that they were able to apply the gauze. They moved Nick to a bench in the back, propping his arm up on a box.

"We just have to wait and see if he wakes up," Naomi said.

Gina quirked an eyebrow. "He'll wake up either way."

"Yeah…" Naomi touched the axe, which she'd slipped into her belt. "Look, I know how you think, Gina. But we're waiting for him to wake up first, understand? And then we'll deal with whatever comes next. He's not gone until he's gone."

Gina nodded thoughtfully. "Okay. And if he wakes up—alive, I mean—what then?"

"We treat the wound as best we can. It's good we found this place, there's plenty of—"

"No, no." She shook her head impatiently. "This mini vacation's been nice and all, but I'm kinda getting tired of sitting on my ass. Aren't you?"

Naomi tugged restlessly at her black hair. "Yes. I'm not leaving Nick behind, though."

She side-eyed Gina with a hard expression, and Gina smiled slowly. So she remembered. She knew Gina had been willing to sacrifice her that day in Kansas.

"I'm not saying we leave him behind. Necessarily. But we do have to be prepared for anything, you know. These are crazy times we live in now."

"Yeah," Naomi replied. "And some of us are better suited for it."

Gina grinned wider. "Lucky for you."

Nick awoke a few hours later, disoriented and clammy, but alive. Naomi gave him painkillers and changed his bandages before he fell back into fitful sleep.

"I think he'll pull through," she said. "But we need to let him recover fully before moving on."

"How long?"

"I don't know, it'll take as long as it takes. Meantime, why don't you help me distract these corpses? We still need water."

~m~

"We're almost out of gas."

Naomi glanced up in the backseat where she tended to Nick. He was curled in a ball with his head against the window, drenched in sweat but no longer shivering.

"How much longer till we run out?"

Gina shrugged. "I don't know. The gas light's on, maybe twenty minutes?"

"Nick?" Naomi's voice was firm, but gentler addressing him. "We're gonna have to walk soon. Do you think you can manage that?"

"Yeah, I'm alright." He offered a small smile. "Never felt better."

A month and a half after amputating his arm, and they were finally on the road to Virginia. The trip hadn't been easy, however, especially for Nick. Ironically it wasn't the missing limb giving him the most issues, but the painkillers, or rather the lack of them.

Gina really hadn't known him very long or very well, but nothing was more transparent about him than his addictive personality, and not just because of the track marks. There hadn't been a way to avoid giving him the pills; he'd needed them. And there hadn't been a sufficient way to keep him from sneaking them long after the need subsided, not when they wanted to keep what supplies they could.

Withdrawal set in almost immediately after they left Kansas, which meant a lot of stops to replenish his water as the intermittent vomiting left him dehydrated. Naomi tended to him, which prompted Gina to ask why she hadn't just gone into nursing like Renee.

Naomi had snorted. "God, you sound like my fucking parents… I didn't want that crap. I just watched a lot of doctor shows growing up. I wanted to own a record store, sell weed from a back room with Mason. We had it all planned out."

From the sadness in her eyes, she was serious about that.

The car died just as they entered a sprawling grassland, dotted with trees at wide intervals. Gina pulled to the side of the highway. It didn't look like there were any immediate places to siphon gas or score a new ride.

"Where are we?" Nick asked.

Gina stretched luxuriously. "Arkansas, I think."

They gathered all they could carry on their backs and set off. Hours passed before any of them spoke. Gina found her mind wandering to Mason more often than not, wondering if she was still alive, if she'd managed to keep the brat alive, too.

She rolled her eyes. Always trying to be the fucking hero.

"Hey," she said, falling back to walk next to Nick. "So you and Mason dated before the outbreak, right?"

Warily, he raised an eyebrow. "Yeah… For, like, two weeks."

She laughed, but there was an edge to the sound. "Relax. Her and I agreed that it was fine to see other people while we were taking our break." That wasn't the exact conversation, but he didn't need to know that.

"Yeah, well…I wouldn't really call it dating, anyway, it was more like two weeks of hooking up and getting high afterwards before we realized we were better off as friends."

"So she got high with you."

"Yeah, but not like that. Just weed, mostly. She wasn't a big fan of the, uh, manufactured high like I was. She helped me get clean, actually. Or, well, start to, anyway."

"Well, that clearly went swimmingly."

Nick frowned. "You know, the others never told me what you did."

"What do you mean?"

"What you did to Mason."

Gina cocked her head. "I didn't do anything to Mason." _That she didn't deserve, _she added silently.

"Yes, you did."

"_No, _I _didn't_. Look, we…" And here she paused to thicken her voice. "We fought. A lot. And I'll admit I wasn't the best girlfriend at the time. I—I know I was angry, and I made Mason feel bad about herself because I didn't know what to do with that anger."

She sniffed delicately, though there were no tears. "But I love Mason. That's why I went to therapy, got my shit figured out. I wanted to be better for her. No one will ever call me the friendliest person on the planet, but that's okay, so long as I never make her feel like shit again."

Nick examined her a moment, and in the end could find no trace of deceit.

"It takes a lot, to try to be better," he said. "So long as you do right by her, I wish you luck getting there."

She smiled. "Thank you."

The mask fell as she strode to take the lead, a scowl taking its place. This did bring up some concerns Gina hadn't properly thought of since the group separated.

The Misfits. They knew the whole story, or at least enough. They were the ones who convinced Mason to distance herself from Gina. They'd seen the scars on Mason's body.

Maybe they knew that only some of them were self-inflicted.

No, they couldn't know that. They were incredibly protective of each other, of Mason. If they knew the whole truth, they wouldn't have let her escape L.A. with them. It wasn't farfetched, however, to figure they probably suspected Gina to be the reason _behind_ those scars, that she had made Mason feel so bad about herself it had driven her to self-harm. Which…_was _partially true.

So Mason…Mason must have had a reason. A reason to keep the worst of the truth from them.

_She's still in love with you._

Fierce satisfaction brimmed in her chest. Of course she was. But that didn't mean her friends wouldn't try to keep them apart.

_You have to separate her. Isolate her._

And she would. Soon as she found her.

~m~

The dead found them just after dusk. Their plan to settle in a copse of trees backfired as the corpses broke free of the shadows.

Naomi and Gina fought them off enough to get a head start running, but it was full dark, no moon, no flashlights. They could barely see where they were going; it was a wonder they didn't accidentally kill each other in the confusion.

"Get back to open ground," Naomi shouted. "We can outrun them!"

Maybe she and Gina could, but Nick had been flagging for the last few hours. They hadn't found any water and he was exhausted and dehydrated.

_Leave him._

It would be easier. Give her and Naomi a chance to get away.

She was about to reach for her, grab her arm and drag her away, maybe even kick Nick's legs out from under him, when a light blinded her. She jumped back so suddenly her feet skidded on the furrowed ground and she fell to her knees.

"Stand still!" a voice shouted, and in the next blink they were surrounded by people, flashlights, weapons spraying blood.

Naomi and Nick took up positions on either side of Gina, which irritated her.

_I don't need your fucking protection._

"Stand back," Naomi said, her voice deep with command. She held her axe up; its glint cut through the gloom.

"Relax," one of the newcomers said. "We don't want to hurt you. That's not what this is about."

"What is it about?" Nick asked. His voice was steady, but his frame shook.

No one answered. Instead a woman bounced toward them, her face cheerful despite what looked to be a recently-broken nose.

"Evenin', friends!"

Her perky tone made Gina want to vomit.

"Are y'all bit?"

"No," Naomi said.

"Good, that's good. Y'know, it's not the wisest to be out after sundown."

"Yeah, we didn't have much choice," Gina spat.

"Are y'all homeless?"

"So to speak."

It was hard to tell in the inconsistent lighting, but it looked like her face brightened.

"Maybe you should come back with us then. We got a camp, and lots of people. You can rest up knowin' you're somewhere safe."

Gina could feel Nick and Naomi deliberating, but she didn't tear her glare from the woman. At least eight others surrounded them, and though she couldn't tell exactly how well, she knew they were armed.

"C'mon," the woman said. "I give you my word that _we _don't bite."

She should've been referencing the dead. But the way she spoke made it sound like she meant something else.

"We don't even know you," Naomi said.

"Well, you know that we risked our tails to help you out. And we're offering a chance at a good night's sleep. Food, water, friendship. Y'all don't want to be alone, do you? It's rough out there when someone's not looking out for you."

The silence persisted. It was Nick who finally broke it.

"You're right," he said, then turned earnestly to Naomi and Gina. "We should go with them, for tonight at least. We can't just stay out in the open."

Naomi hesitated before nodding. "Yeah."

Gina gritted her teeth but stayed quiet. She could kill these people if she had to. Rip their throats out if they tried anything.

So she pushed herself to her feet, every nerve wired to react in short notice as the strangers herded them away from the trees.

"Who are you people, anyway?" Naomi asked.

"Oh, our group doesn't really have a name. Maybe one day! But you can call me Coyote."

"Coyote?"

"Yep. I like it a lot better than my given name. I think it defines who I am more exactly."

Gina raised an eyebrow.

They didn't travel far. About a mile south, they reached the edge of a cluster of tents backed up to a large RV. Only the beam of the flashlights revealed they were even there, tucked behind an incline. There were no lights on in any of them. Gina frowned.

"Is anyone even here?"

"Oh, yes. But we have a strict lights-off policy after dark. Don't wanna draw attention from the risen."

"The risen?" Nick repeated.

"The risen dead."

They stopped in the center of the gathering, home to a few rundown fire pits and picnic benches. The nameless strangers halted in a circle around their guests while Coyote disappeared briefly.

The man she returned with was tall, an imposing pillar in white. His hair was cropped close, and looked to be blonde or possibly gray. He smiled welcomingly at the three of them, but the warmth never quite reached his eyes.

"Evening," he said. "I'm told you're looking for a safe place for the night."

"We are," Nick replied.

"Well this is a safe place. So long as you are here, you will have no reason for fear. We take care of our family."

"Family?" Naomi pursed her lips dubiously.

The man spread his arms. "We're all one family, aren't we? Even more so now that the dead walk the earth. Crow, Foster, why don't you fetch our guests some tea, something to help them recover from their scare tonight?"

Two shadows broke off from the group. There was something mechanical in their wordless departure.

"So why don't you tell me where you fine people are from?"

"Why don't you tell us your name?" Gina returned sharply.

"Oh, I'm very sorry. I guess in the excitement of making new acquaintances, we forget our manners. Dr. Gregory Caan."

He extended his hand but Gina just stared at it. Nick stepped forward to shake it instead.

"I'm Nick. That's Gina, and Naomi. You're a doctor?"

"I was, yes. But our recent state of affairs has provided me with a _higher _calling, of sorts."

Nick and Naomi exchanged a glance. Gina locked eyes with the doctor and held them without blinking.

Crow and Foster returned then with three Styrofoam cups of tea, and handed them to their guests. Gina sniffed hers—chamomile and licorice. She took an experimental sip. It tasted just as she expected. It tasted like the days when Mason lived in her basement.

"So am I right in assuming you folks are not from around here?" Caan said.

"We're not," Nick said. "How could you tell?"

"Accent, son. Always nice to meet folks from all walks of life. Coyote, my dear one, fetch tents for our guests."

Coyote's face was all devotion as she smiled at him. "Of course, my…sir."

Gina frowned. _What the fuck is this?_

Caan's people had enough tents to spare that Nick, Naomi and Gina each got their own. They were small, but she had to admit it was nice to get some separation. She wasn't naturally a people person, and if she couldn't replenish her solitude it made her…cranky.

She finished her tea. She couldn't seem to stop herself. The taste reminded her so vividly of Mason it made her crave more, even though she had never been a tea drinker. It was disconcerting to admit, but she actually…_missed _Mason. Not just in all the ways that served her, the way Gina wanted her to be, but…the way she _was_. Tea, even in the dead heat of summer. Stopping to pet every animal that crossed her path. Cracking jokes so lame that no one else laughed. The way she could listen to music for hours, content with that and nothing else.

She was weak, that was certain, but there was something about her that kept Gina coming back time and again.

_I'll find you, _she thought as she laid back. Her eyelids fluttered closed. Suddenly it seemed impossible to stay awake a second longer.

She thought of Mason's smile and smiled herself just as sleep took over.

_I'll make you mine again._

~m~

Something jarred her awake. A pain, a shock. A slice, somewhere lower down on her body; it was a struggle to pinpoint exactly where through the drowsy haze.

_A bee, probably, _she thought. But…wait. It was still dark out, wasn't it? Did bees come out at night?

_Wake up._

But she couldn't, not fully. Even as the pain continued, even as it swelled steadily up… Her leg, it was in her leg. She groaned and fidgeted, trying to find which way was up, trying to swim back to consciousness. She felt drunk, she felt sedated, she…

Sedated.

_They drugged you. They drugged you, you stupid bitch, and you let them._

But her rage was distant, she couldn't grab hold of it properly. There was no way to fight as she was dragged back under.

She came gasping up for air, covered in blood. The world around her was dark but she could see every shape—the trees glistening with raindrops, the dead moving soundlessly through the woods, and the thick, red pool she raised her head above.

Someone stood before her, black-cloaked and veiled in smoke. They faced away, but instinctively Gina knew it to be Mason.

She reached out. "Mace—"

"You won't separate us. Not this time."

"What? You—you're the one who called it quits on _me_, it wasn't my fucking—"

"No," Mason said, and turned. Her face was luminous with smears of glow-in-the-dark paint, her eyes like kaleidoscopes, like church glass. She was a vengeful deity.

"I won't allow you to separate us. _We _won't allow it."

_We? Who the fuck is we?_

The sting in her leg flared before she could utter another word, and she sank again beneath the red.

Nothing made sense down there. She was alone, and she wasn't alone. She could sense the dead above her, and they were whispering, too low and fast to figure out. Wolves brought her bones, weapons, faces. At one point she lay curled on her side, eating the stomach of a corpse while it ate hers.

Somewhere in the middle of it, the whispering grew more distinct. Flashes lit up the red around her, like the sun through closed eyelids.

"They're strong, I can tell. I want to see how strong."

"What did you give her?"

"Rattlesnake. Full dose. Same as the others."

"You must have faith in them, my Keeper."

"Yes, I do. Fetch some water. She'll need it when she wakes up."

~m~

And wake she finally did, to a body covered in sweat and a taste in her mouth that reminded her of that puddle, that pool she sank below…

Leaning to the side, she retched violently, body twitching.

"Oh, no. This is a brand new tent!"

Through teary eyes, Gina looked up and realized she wasn't alone. An older woman sat a few feet away, one hand resting on a bucket.

"You should've warned me, I could've held this out for you!" the woman continued, brows pinched in disapproval.

Gina stared for a moment, ignoring the way the world spun at a sickly angle.

"Sorry," she finally said. "I'll make sure to wait next time until you're in position."

The woman clicked her tongue. "Now, there's no need for attitude. I'm here to help you through this."

Immediately, everything surged back. The night before, the tea, waking up to a pain in her leg…

She sat up quickly—admittedly, a massive mistake. The world tilted at a new angle, spinning faster, and her stomach with it. The blood in her head felt too heavy for her body.

"What's going on?" she demanded, though there wasn't as much force behind it as she would've preferred. "What's happening?"

"You were bit by a snake. We're tending to you."

As the woman spoke, Gina glanced down at her left ankle, the two red pinpricks surrounded by engorged flesh. The breath caught in her throat.

"How…how the fuck did a snake get in here?"

The woman shrugged. "I don't know. You must've left your tent open."

"I didn't."

"If you're going to live outdoors, you need to be aware of those kinds of things."

"I. Didn't."

"Here." The woman held out a flask, unimpressed by the hostility in Gina's voice. "It's water. You need to keep hydrated. And keep that leg elevated. The poison will work itself out eventually. If you're strong enough."

But Gina refused the flask. "You drugged me. Last night, you fucking drugged me."

"Young lady, I didn't even see you last night—"

"_Your fucking weird-ass doctor gave me tea and it was drugged._"

"If you thought it was drugged, why did you drink it?"

Rage rippled down her spine, but her lips stretched in a smile. "I'm sorry, what was your name?"

The woman stared flatly. "Morning Glory."

"…Right, okay, well, I'm just gonna call you Glory for short, okay? Now, Glory. I think maybe we got off on the wrong foot."

_Ha? Foot. Get it? _a voice in her head chortled. It sounded suspiciously like Mason. She grimaced.

"See, I think you've got this impression like I'm gonna tolerate your bullshit."

"Listen, girl—"

"No, you're gonna listen to _me_, you fucking windbag." The smile dissolved into a snarl. The ground swayed under her. "Tell me what to do one more time, and you're gonna wind up with a brand-new hole in that Silly Putty face. I guess maybe it won't be permanent if your fuckhead Nazi doctor is a plastic surgeon, but—"

Glory slapped her. "Don't speak of him like that."

A fierce ringing flooded her ears. She stretched her jaw once, twice, hoping it would cease.

"God, fuck, can't take the truth, lady?" Her words came out slurred. A wave of shivers racked her body. "Take me to that Third Reich-looking bastard, I'll say it to his face—"

She choked as Glory splashed the water in her face.

"Foul little shit," she hissed. "I'll see to it that you're sent to the Reeling Fields. I'll see to it you're belly-down when the risen take you."

"What—what the fuck are you even talking about, you crazy bitch?"

But when Gina wiped her face dry, Glory was gone, the flask abandoned on the floor of the tent. She sagged in her absence, too exhausted to keep the anger up. Sweat rolled down her limbs. Her stomach churned uneasily, but she didn't think there was anything left in it to throw up.

She rubbed a hand over her swollen ankle. Her eyes flicked from the bite mark to the front of the tent, unzipped and flapping in the breeze.

_I didn't leave it open._

She remembered the voices in her dream. The dead talking.

_What did you give her?_

_Rattlesnake. _

Her mouth popped open. "You've gotta be absolutely shitting me…"

She exited the tent, telling herself she only crawled because it was too small to stand up in. Once she was outside, it took several focused efforts just to get to her feet. It was too bright out, the same invading brightness the light adopted when she was hungover. She staggered forward, squinting through the glare to find the RV.

Glory stood outside its door, speaking animatedly with Caan. Coyote hovered nearby, bouncing anxiously on her toes.

"Hey!" Gina barked hoarsely, and all three faced her. "Come here, so I can break my foot off in your ass."

"Gina," Caan said pleasantly. "We should talk."

"I don't want to talk. I want to bleed you like a fucking—"

Two large men appeared on either side of her and gripped her arms. Before she had a chance to struggle, one of them pricked her with a syringe.

"Hey—_hey_, what the fuck is that?"

Drowsiness settled over her like a thick blanket. Her body drooped between the two men.

"Come inside," Caan said. "We'll have that talk."

They dragged her into the RV and sat her down in the bedroom at the end. The curtains were drawn and the lights off except for a single reading lamp. The men left, closing the door behind them.

Caan sat next to her, smiling. Gina slumped against the wall, too distant from her rage. It did make the pain easier to handle, however.

"Haloperidol," he finally said. "That's what they gave you. Enough for conscious sedation. So you can talk to me like a human being, or rather _listen _like a human being."

His tone was assured, superior. She wanted to kick his teeth in, but her legs stayed frozen.

"I was a surgeon before. My specialty was maxillofacial. Not a lot of on-call, but plenty of trauma cases. It paid exceptionally well, which was all I was concerned about. I lived alone in a six-bedroom mansion and I was happy in my misery."

_You sound like my dad, _she wanted to say, but couldn't find the energy.

"And then after the dead found their new breath, I found mine, too. Not immediately, though. That first week…" He shook his head indulgently. "I was lost. Literally. My practice was in Galveston, and when the risen overtook the living, the city became a dangerous place. I didn't know how I made it back to the mainland at the time. Why me when so many others were dying."

_Why me, when so many others don't have to listen to this bullshit?_

"I found myself lost in the desert, starving and dehydrated and convinced I would die alone. And when all this brought me to my knees, when I could barely crawl, I crossed paths with a rattlesnake."

_And it didn't have the decency to kill you._

"I drank its blood, Gina. I drank its blood to survive. And it gave me just enough strength to reach a stream, to find water, to keep going. A bringer of death, providing me life. It was the great divinity of nature, approving me at the teeth of one of its cold-blooded judges."

He was silent for a moment, and in the silence his expression changed. Morphed from the cordial smile she imagined he'd used on patients to one a bit truer. There was disdain in it, there was cruelty.

"At least, that's what I tell these fine, simple people," he said. "Oh, it's true that I drank its blood. But just between you and me, I never felt any divinity in that moment or any moment after. I put my faith in science, and the human condition. I never needed an imagined force to know that I deserved to live more than most, but that doesn't mean I can't use that fortune to save others. Same as before."

Yep. Definitely like her dad.

"Are you gonna kill me?" Gina slurred. "That why you're telling me this?"

Caan's pale eyes glinted. "You know, from the minute I saw you, I knew you had a fighting spirit. And we need people like that around, to protect the camp, the mothers in particular. Recently we had a run-in with a potential recruit who did not want to conform to our way of life. That's where Coyote received her broken nose, that's why we have to initiate folks a little differently."

"The…snakes."

"We've always used snakes. But these days, I prefer to meet initiates personally _before _anyone gets bitten, and oversee the process in a controlled environment. The rules are the same, though. Someone is bit, they receive minimal help through it, and if they're strong enough to survive then that is…evidence of a higher approval. That nature has marked them as a fitter breed, one worthy of existence. They are free to join us after that."

"What if…they don't?"

"You had an opportunity to avoid us. Be it fate, or chance, or whatever you prescribe to, you could have taken a different path." Caan leaned toward her, hands folded in his lap. "But now that you're here, we control your chances. _I _control your fate. I can kill your friends quite easily, make it look like they simply weren't strong enough to bear the venom. I can kill you. Right now, if I want to.

"I don't want to, as much as Morning Glory might advocate for it; you certainly made an impression on her." He chuckled pleasantly. "Besides, this _is _a safe place. Safe from the risen, safe from marauders and plunderers. I can understand how our methods might rub someone the wrong way, especially one as independent as yourself. But you will be fed here. You will be sheltered. You can have a family, _or _you can be left alone. Completely up to you, so long as you obey the rules."

He quieted then, and Gina realized he was waiting for her to speak. And what were her options, at this point? Make a run for it and end up rotting in a ditch somewhere?

She could stay. Long enough to recover, for Nick and Naomi to recover, if they were going to. Long enough to plan her escape.

"I'll stay," she grunted.

"Wonderful. I am going to have to ask you keep this conversation to yourself. Not that I'm terribly worried one of my devotees would believe you." Amused at the thought. "It's just one of those rules. Return to your tent now and rest up. We'll likely be talking later, but please, come to me whenever you feel the need to see me sooner."

With that, he stood up and called for the two men from before. They picked Gina up and carried her back to her tent, which Coyote had cleaned while Caan talked her ear off. She examined their blank expressions as they set her down, and wondered what went on behind their eyes.

Once she was alone, her thoughts cycled back to Caan and all that he'd said. Why had he revealed all that shit to her in the first place? Pretty bold move. Unless he really was certain no one here would believe her if she uttered a word of it.

She frowned. What had he done to these people? What was he planning to do to her, to Nick or Naomi? Did he really think she would obey his bullshit gospel?

Were these people just like Mason had been, wounded and looking for anyone to tell them anything, to please someone? If so…well, Gina knew how to play that game.

Caan's cavalier smile, her _father's _smile, followed her back down into sleep, and somehow, she found rest between dark fits of dreaming. But before that, her last coherent thought sank a hook deep in her brain, one that she had no intention of shaking loose.

_I'm going to eat his throat._

**A/N: I'm sorry if some of you aren't big on dream sequences; I try to keep them brief, but I promise there IS actual significance to them. Next chapter we will see just how fucked up this cult is, and what happens to Gina, Naomi and Nick. There's still some crazy stuff to come, and then we'll get back to Team Family and see where they're at. Thank you so much for reading, and until next time, much love xoxo.  
**


	11. The Antidote

**A/N: Hello, guys! So this is the conclusion to the last chapter, and it's gonna get pretty crazy. Trigger warning for mention of a miscarriage, a fairly hideous execution scene, and a death scene toward the end that's briefly kinda gross. Listing that all out makes it seem like it's gruesome from start to finish but I promise it's not, there's just a few things I don't want you to be unprepared for. Today's chapter song is "The Antidote" by St. Vincent, it's honestly perfect for Alpha. Super huge thanks for reading and reviewing, and I hope you enjoy!**

11\. The Antidote

Late at night, when they thought she was asleep, she sat up and listened to the things they said to Nick and Naomi.

They murmured about Nick's track marks, told him that before he'd been lost, worthless. But here, in the service of the Great Keeper, he could live a life of purpose. He could be pure again.

They whispered about Naomi's potential to contribute to the future of the community, how nature dictated she fulfill specific roles. That as a woman, motherhood was the truest, noblest path she could walk. Gina had no idea if they knew about the baby or not.

And every night, as they whispered, they blinked their flashlights on and off. Steady and deliberate.

On. And off.

They never came to Gina's tent. She figured this was probably because Caan saw no sense in it. No one questioned it either way.

Three days had passed. She couldn't tell if she was getting better or not. Sometimes she had enough energy to wander the camp, cloaked in a sheet to protect from the glaring sun, and sometimes the venom kept her bed-bound. Today, the former had revealed something which put her stomach in a tight knot.

There was a surprising faction of pregnant women within the group. Ten or so, she counted, which was incredible considering there were only about thirty people total that made up the group. They stayed stuck like glue to each other, discussing their pregnancies in placid tones while they patched worn clothes and prepared the next meal.

At first, she thought maybe they sought out these pregnant women specifically. But if so, it was strange that none of them seemed to be past the first trimester. And how would they have found so many, when people in general were at a premium these days?

So she sat with them, wearing that pleasant smile her mother taught her once upon a time.

_To get whatever you want, you have to offer a smile like that's the only thing you want in return. _

She was never quite so good at keeping it up as her mother, but she gave enough of an effort to make up for it.

The women seemed charmed. They welcomed her to the circle, asking how she was faring and if she had given any thought to what she might provide the community. She answered with some crap she thought Mason might say. That she wanted to protect the group, that that's all she'd ever tried to do for her friends, blah, blah, blah.

"Oh, so you don't want to be a mother," one of them said.

"That's not really my speed. And I'm a lesbian."

"Lesbians have children, too," another woman said, smiling like she thought Gina was being silly.

Gina fought the acid from her tone. "Yeah. Back when artificial insemination was a thing. But these days it's a little different. If I have to fu—if I have to have sex with a man to get pregnant, then it's not an option. Besides…" _I hate children. _"Raising kids just never felt like the right path for me."

"I didn't think it was the right path for me, either, until our Keeper showed me who I could be." The woman smiled dreamily. "Sometimes it takes an incredible man to return a woman to her potential."

Gina gagged inwardly.

"So…he's the father?" she guessed.

"Of course. There is no question that nature approves the existence of his offspring. Their worthiness is predestined."

"Uh huh… So what about the kids that _aren't _his offspring?"

The women stared at her like she was missing something incredibly obvious.

She shook her head. "_All _of you?"

"It's the only way to guarantee the survival of this community. The worthy breed the strong. That's how it is now."

Every woman in the circle murmured their agreement. Except one. Slight and mousy, Gina hadn't paid her much attention until the silence. Her eyes were wide, as though trying to convey something vital.

Unwilling to single her out, Gina smiled and said, "I'm sorry, I don't think I caught all of your names."

The mousy woman went by Cricket. It was the only name Gina bothered to remember.

Sitting in her tent now, listening to whoever visited Nick and Naomi, she wondered about that look on Cricket's face. If it was the same look she herself used to wear at her mother's parties. Begging someone to see, that _anyone _would see…

_See what?_

That she was trapped. A hostage in her own home, her own body.

_You're not trapped anymore._

But there was always that fear, wasn't there? That maybe she…was still a prisoner. Still a prisoner and didn't even know it…

_You _are _a prisoner. Of this fucking cult. So quit your little pity party and figure out what the hell you're going to do about it._

The visitors went on for about an hour, and then the night was silent. Gina waited a few minutes more before sneaking out of her tent.

Nick's was closest, so she went to his first. She brought no flashlight, but the light of a waxing moon cast the faintest light within the tent. Asleep, but fitful, his body shuddered under venom or nightmares or both. She wasn't sure what she was doing there, so she sat quietly and watched the sweat roll down his pinched face.

An hour or so later, she looked in on Naomi, who seemed to be faring little better than Nick. But her eyes opened as Gina sat next to her, freezing her in place.

"Well, I must be dreaming." Naomi smirked weakly. "Gina Stanton, coming to see me on my deathbed."

Gina bristled at the use of her last name. "You're not on your deathbed, _Naomi Sung_."

"I'd've thought you'd be happy, since you don't like me all that much."

She shared her sister's skill for cutting through the bullshit. Gina sniffed indifferently. "I don't like anyone. It's nothing personal."

"So I shouldn't take it personally if you leave me behind to save your own ass?"

"I mean, you can if you want. But I've heard forgiveness is divine."

Naomi coughed a laugh. "You don't fucking have a clue what forgiveness is."

"I know the dictionary definition."

There was a brief silence, in which Naomi shook her head and Gina listened carefully for any movement in camp.

"I'm not too acquainted with forgiveness, either."

Gina glanced cautiously at Naomi. She hadn't really come in here for a heart-to-heart, but then again, she didn't know why she was here.

"You know, Charlie and I made a pact to never have children," she continued, smiling wryly.

"Oh. Well, you followed through with flying colors, didn't you?"

Naomi rolled her eyes. "I was fourteen at the time, she was nine. And I didn't tell her when I changed my mind a few years later. She found out when I told her I was pregnant, and that I was keeping it."

"Why'd you wait? Scared your sister would put you in a pot pie?"

"I mean, that was definitely a concern. But no, it was…" Naomi sighed. "There was a lot of resentment between us, growing up. My parents held me to a different standard, because I was the oldest, you know. And because for a while, I did genuinely try to please them. Up until about sixteen, I was a model kid, which Charlie just…_hated_.

"But I didn't want the things they wanted. I wanted…I just wanted a job I wasn't completely miserable going to, with enough time to make my jewelry. If I could've had that record store, maybe I would've sold a few pieces in there, just for the hell of it, but it always would've been a hobby. Fuck putting that kind of pressure on something I love.

"They never looked at Charlie the same way. Partly it was because she refused to give them a reason, always causing trouble in school and slacking off, and for so long I thought she preferred it that way. But I know now… She wanted them to see her the same way, without having to give them a reason. She wanted them to see the potential in her, without having to _show_ them. They never understood that."

She paused to wipe a hand under her eyes and Gina looked away.

"So that was always the biggest rift between us. We actually didn't talk for two years after I left home. She resented me for our parents' pride. I resented her for not having to deal with that pressure. But I love her. She's a little shit, but I love her. And at a certain point, we made sure to understand each other, all that crap that put us at odds for so long. I didn't tell her I was pregnant because I didn't want her to think I betrayed her, after all that."

Gina grunted. "Why are you telling _me _all this?"

"Because I know you don't care either way. I couldn't say all this to someone who actually knew me, but I do need to say it. There's things in me…I need to purge."

Gina turned back with a frown.

"You shouldn't listen to the shit they come in here and tell you every night."

Naomi's dark eyes flickered with surprise, but she ducked her head. "I don't really…have much of a choice."

"Yes, you do. You may not be able to _physically_ get up and move, but you can choose not to allow any real estate for their creepy-ass rhetoric."

"But what if they're right?"

"…What?"

"Gina, my baby—" The breath abandoned her for a moment. She swallowed before continuing. "My baby is out there somewhere, and I don't even know if she's alive. She's _my _responsibility, and I don't know if she's _alive_."

"So you think you should be relegated to brood bitch for the rest of your life?"

Naomi sighed. "You don't get it."

"Because there's nothing to _get_. It's _bullshit, _Naomi. Bullshit."

But the energy drained out of Naomi's expression, eyes going blank before she closed them. Gina curled her lip in disgust.

"Fine. Stay here and make babies for them until you rot. It won't bring your brat back."

Fuming, she returned to her tent.

~m~

Gina recovered first. Coyote, who took over overseeing the healing process after Glory refused, was ecstatic.

"You're going to be the absolute best sister!" she exclaimed when Caan gave Gina the all-clear. "Simply the best! Don't tell the other sisters I said that, though. I don't want them thinkin' I pick favorites."

Right. Because they were all one family now.

An induction ceremony was held, in which Caan talked a load of bullshit and Gina killed the snake that bit her to display unerringly that she belonged in this new world. There was the brief temptation to shove it down Caan's throat, but…no. It wasn't the time.

Cricket stared through the whole thing, standing next to a man with scraggly hair and heavy-lidded eyes.

She intended to seek Cricket out the next day, but Foster caught her before she got the chance.

"Our Keeper said you aren't going to be a mother," he said.

"Uh, no."

"Then you're to join us on patrol. We'll spend a few days getting you acquainted with the way we do things, and by the end of your training we'll know if you're more suited for scavenging or recruiting."

Scraggle Hair was among the men in her group, she was pleased to see, though she wasn't afforded much opportunity to ask him the questions she wanted to.

They scavenged the limited contents of a shack and the fruit from several plum trees before coming to a strange, glittering tree. It tinkled in the light breeze and Gina realized as they drew closer that it was adorned in wind chimes and glass bottles. A pit yawned at its base. The dead shuffled back and forth within, rousing at the sight of fresh meat.

"Full house today," Foster murmured in his unemotional tone. "Mosquito and I will take the left side, Owen and Gina take the right."

"And then…?" Gina said.

"You kill them."

"That's the only reason you gather them?"

"We have to keep them from the camp."

"Yeah, sure, I get that. But…"

They began dispatching the dead without acknowledging her. Her jaw twitched.

"You could _use _them instead of just wasting them," she growled.

All three looked up, Owen the slowest.

"Use them," Foster repeated.

"Yes. Use them. You know, the way you use the snakes. You could put them up around the camp like a fence, or as a trap—"

"The Keeper has decreed that this is what we will do with the risen," Foster said sharply. "He knows what's best."

Prickling with irritation, she crouched at the edge of the pit and took out her knife. Foster and Mosquito continued with their work, but Owen watched her, blinking slowly like he wasn't fully awake. She stared back in silent challenge.

They left the bodies; Foster claimed he would come back with a truck for them later. Gina realized they must keep whatever vehicles they had hidden from the camp, either to discourage looters or…

_Discourage a fast getaway._

They spent a few more hours waiting and wandering about, looking for people. But the road and surrounding hills stayed vacant even of the dead, and Gina returned to camp feeling as though they hadn't really done much of anything.

Foster and Mosquito disappeared, the former to report to Caan, the latter likely to stare dazedly into space, but Owen lingered.

Gina raised an eyebrow. "You have something to say?"

"That…was a good idea." His tone was vacant and halting. "With…the…dead."

"Yeah, I know it was. Would've been nice if you'd said that before."

Owen smiled shyly. "Foster's not…the most open-minded. Maybe…if we go with Coyote…you'll have better luck."

"That's great and all, but it doesn't seem like I have much say around here."

"Coyote has…the Keeper's ear. Ask her."

Then he shuffled away.

~m~

Cricket's skinny silhouette awaited her in her tent that evening.

"What the he—"

Cricket put a finger to her lips to gesture for quiet, her wide, dark eyes flicking back and forth like she expected the others to tear through the walls of the tent.

When she seemed satisfied this wouldn't happen, she whispered, "You don't want to be here."

"Yeah, no shit," Gina hissed back. "That why you keep staring at me like a fucking—"

"You need to help me. You need to help me get out. Please."

Gina coughed incredulously. "What makes you think _I _can help you get out?"

"I saw you when you first got here. The others may think you've been properly assimilated, but I'm not stupid."

"That explains how you know _I'm _getting out, not why you think I'd help you."

"Because—" She breathed shortly. "Because if you don't, I'll tell the doctor you attacked me, that you're crazy jealous cuz you can't have babies, and he'll have you sent out to the Reeling Fields so fast you'll get whiplash."

Gina grinned. "_Oh_, so we're playing hardball? You know what, I like that. Means you'll actually be some use to me getting out of here."

Cricket's lips trembled with relief. "Really?"

"Don't ruin it by crying."

"But are you serious? You'll really help me?"

"Yes. The more people I have on my side, the easier this'll be."

"So you have a plan?"

"No, do you?"

"Not—not really. But it's not just me. It's my brother, too. Owen."

Gina pulled back. "Owen's your brother?"

"Yes. And I need to get him out. He's…he's not _himself _here." Her eyes narrowed fiercely. "They're brainwashing people. That's how they hunt, they look for someone…_desperate. _Someone they think will be susceptible."

As if on cue, the whispering started up in the tent next door, and the lights. On. And off.

"How are they doing it?" Gina asked, her voice even lower than the whisperers. "I mean, yeah, they're telling them shit, but…"

Cricket shrugged her bony shoulders. "Sickness, starvation, loneliness… Drugs, and the apocalypse. It all makes a person moldable."

And the more moldable, the more willing they were to accept someone's word as law, someone who seemed charming and charismatic, someone who might protect them.

Gina shook her head irritably. "If you know so much, why the fuck did you let him knock you up in the first place?"

The question seemed to age her. "My brother. He got an infection from a stab wound and he was going to die. So I agreed. I played along. But maybe we should've died. This isn't life. This is service."

She rubbed a hand over her stomach. Gina frowned.

"Are you even pregnant? Because you don't look it."

"I'm just a few weeks along."

"You want kids? Outside of this mess, I mean."

"I never have. And having them now seems cruel. But they're the future." This last, she said with a bitterness Gina recognized deep in her bones.

_(you're trapped you're trapped you're trapped)_

"Alright, look." She glanced at the tent wall, through which the glow of the flashlight winked in and out of existence. "I'm getting out no matter what. But I'm going to try to get my frie—to get Nick and Naomi out, too. They're the pathetic twits that got me into this mess, but it sorta takes the fun out of kicking their asses for it if they're mindless shells."

"We'll have to wait for them to get better."

"Yeah."

Gina gritted her teeth. It would be so much easier if she just left them, and a good portion of her was sorely tempted. But she thought of Naomi's story, her parents and the pressure and the need to be free, and how it was a story Gina could've told herself.

_There's things in me…I need to purge._

"What the hell's stopping you from just…sneaking out after dark?"

"They watch," Cricket answered. "Right outside the camp. The mothers keep tabs, too. There's been two separate escape attempts since I've been here. Both ended in executions."

"Well, that was before me."

"You sound like you're already out."

Gina curled her lip, showing the barest hint of her teeth. "That's because I fucking am."

~m~

Nick and Naomi were cleared the same day Gina saw the Reeling Fields for the first time.

That morning, Caan called a meeting to announce that there was a dissenter in their midst. Gina kept her face smooth and controlled, but her heart sparked with adrenaline, certain Cricket must have betrayed her.

The man Foster and Crow dragged out and forced to his knees was one she recognized only vaguely. He was gagged, tears and snot running down his face, arms and legs bound with rope. Gina relaxed slightly.

His crime, Caan claimed, was questioning the need for snake venom, threatening to put an end to it.

The whole cult let out a savage hiss. The man wailed against his gag.

Foster handed Caan a sledgehammer. Caan smiled serenely and said, "You have scorned the gift Nature has accorded you, and relinquished your divine right to survival. Your penalty is the Reeling."

He swung the sledgehammer. There was a sickening crunch before the scream, and all Gina could think of was this song Mason used to play by a bright band that wrote about dark things. It stuck absurdly in her head as Caan raised the sledgehammer again, and the man shrieked as first one foot and then the other was crushed.

The group's hissing dwindled to silence. Foster and Crow hoisted the man between them and began towing him away, and Caan and the group followed. Gina's legs moved of their own accord, her eyes fixated on the mangled remains of the man's feet.

They journeyed out beyond the dead pit, to a small basin scooped from the hills as though by some giant shovel. That was probably the story Caan told. Nature's divine backhoe.

The handful of trees within the basin were glittering copies of the one by the dead pit. The sound of clinking glass greeted her a second before the smell did, an assault of rot and shit. Though they had to know it was coming, some of the group still choked.

A few corpses wandered back and forth through the basin, attracted by the sound of the trees. Others lay snagged on large, strange teeth poking out of the ground. It took Gina a second to realize that they were bones, snapped into wicked points and stuck deep into the earth.

That was what they did with the bodies. Harvested them for their bones.

There were no words said before the man was cut loose and tossed into the basin. The crowd was hushed as he slammed into the dirt and scrambled to hands and knees, flinching and fumbling in a futile attempt at avoiding the teeth. He crawled drunkenly, weaving and skewing back and forth, scattering blood all the while, and Gina finally realized why they called it the Reeling Fields.

The dead didn't take long to shamble over, drawn by the man's whimpering and the scent of blood.

He was eaten belly-down and screaming.

Only when he was silent did Caan speak, bowing his head.

"Today, we have endured an uncomfortable blow. But as with anything, there is good to balance the bad. Nature has seen our struggle, and rewarded us for our faith. Our two newest initiates were officially cleared this morning as survivors."

The induction ceremony was held that evening before lights-out. Even without the chance to speak with them, Gina could tell Nick and Naomi were not themselves. Blank faces and mechanical movements, like so many of the others here.

A cheer went up when it was over. Gina narrowed her eyes, irritated by their empty acceptance. They didn't know Nick or Naomi. They were celebrating the husks of strangers.

Nick returned to his tent immediately after, but Naomi was invited to a private conference with Caan in his RV. When no one was looking, Gina snuck into Naomi's tent to wait.

She wasn't gone long. Her tired eyes widened as she stepped inside.

"What are you doing here?"

"So he just wanted a quickie tonight? I can't decide if that's good or bad for you."

Naomi sighed. "Shut up, Gina."

"What, you don't want to gossip?" She pitched her voice higher, the way all her mother's rich friends spoke. "Was he a good kisser, or did he even bother?"

"It wasn't like that. We just talked."

"Oh, hammering out the baby-making schedule?"

Naomi shoved her hard enough to knock her off balance. "Stop being a bitch. I'm not going to be a…a mother. Not for them."

Gina took a moment to suppress her surprise. "Oh. Well, that's—"

"He wants me to. I think he's going to keep pushing me about it. But I'm used to fucking over peoples' expectations."

"Okay. So that'll make this a little easier."

"Make what easier?"

Gina lowered her voice, though she was already whispering. "We're escaping. This chick, Cricket, and I are working it out."

Naomi blinked slowly, then ducked her head. "Escape where?"

"Where—what—what do you mean _where_? Fucking Virginia. The whole point of this fucked up road trip?"

"Yeah, but what do you think is even waiting for us there?"

"Christ, don't start this again."

"I'm serious. Do you really think they made it? Look at all the shit that's happened to us and we're only halfway there."

"Well, we'll never know if we stay here in this backwoods commune."

"I…I don't know."

"You don't…oh. That's great. _You don't know_. Okay, then, I'll tell you what. You stay here, do a little soul-searching, and when you figure it out, send me a postcard. Maybe something with a little snake on it. That'd be cute, wouldn't it?"

She stalked out, too pissed to care if anyone saw her.

~m~

Owen was right about Coyote having Caan's ear. The next day, she convinced him to let her take Gina out instead of Foster, and in the end Gina couldn't ask for a better group, with Owen and Nick to complete it.

Pretending to listen while Coyote prattled on, it was easy enough to steer the group back toward the dead pit. There were only three corpses today.

"It's a shame we can't use them for anything else," Gina said, interrupting whatever the hell Coyote was saying.

"Huh? Oh, the risen? For what?" Coyote blinked, genuinely curious.

"I don't know. Maybe…we could use them to herd initiates, you know? Or maybe keep intruders away?"

"Oh! Well, I'll be pickled. That's an _amazing _idea!"

Gina grinned. She couldn't deny she enjoyed the look Coyote gave her, that same gleaming awe with which she regarded Caan. Owen nodded briefly, his eyes warm with approval. Nick just looked vaguely confused, rubbing absently at the wrappings on his left arm.

Coyote insisted on taking this idea back to Caan, who Gina knew would never approve it simply because it hadn't been his. But getting this idea approved wasn't even the point, not really.

The point was planting another.

She wasn't surprised or even disappointed when Caan called her into his RV that afternoon to inform her that the risen's function had already been decided. His tone was polite, but in his pale eyes there was a warning.

So Gina flashed one of her own, smiled and said, "I only want what's best for this group."

She spent the next morning with the mothers, making them laugh as she helped them with breakfast. Casually she mentioned her idea about the dead, how it was a shame the Keeper didn't see things her way. Naturally they defended him, and Gina feigned agreement.

"Oh, no, of course he's right. It's just…" She worked to make her expression innocent and troubled. "He seems so…overworked sometimes, I worry about him. It just seems right to help him where we can, you know? As followers, isn't that our duty?"

And though they were quick to claim they could never make decisions of his magnitude, the doubt flickered in their eyes.

Through it all, Cricket never gave any sign she registered Gina's existence. She was really starting to grow on her.

The rest of the week passed in much the same manner, befriending those she could, leaving threads for them to follow, until the evening came when Caan addressed them directly.

"My beloveds," he said. "I have heard the whisperings. I know that an idea has been proposed, that we use the risen as tools while they can move, while they can bite. I cannot deny that this sounds effective in theory, but the reality is that it is simply too risky."

"Not if we took the right precautions," Owen spoke up, in a voice much clearer and steadier than Gina had ever heard it. Cricket stared in shock.

"And what precautions would those be?" Caan asked. Voice indulgent, eyes dangerous.

"I…don't know exactly. But they're dead. They can't think, we can. I'm sure if we just gave it a little thought—"

"I appreciate your efforts in trying to find a solution to the terrors that surround us. But dearest ones, I must be candid." He paused, frowning at the ground, and Gina felt her lips twitch in a furious smile.

_What, asshole? What lie have you got in your arsenal?_

"I have been granted a vision, by the grand divinity of the universe," he continued. "A dream. In this dream, I saw a snake coiled around our camp. Keeping out the terrors, the darkness. But within our camp, there lurked a wolf. Unseen by anyone, it whispered its lies in the ears of all who would listen, and spread discord where there might have been unity."

Tension rippled through the crowd as they all looked at one another. Who was the wolf? Was it already here?

Caan smiled serenely. "I promise, my beautiful, wonderful people, I will not allow this wolf to destroy us. To destroy what we have built here. But now I hope you will see why I am hesitant to encourage change when there is nothing wrong with the way we have always done things."

Slowly, deliberately, his eyes landed on Gina, and the crowd followed his gaze. She kept hers pinned on him a second longer before looking around in confusion, as clueless and apprehensive as the rest of them.

Nearly everyone gave her a wide berth as the crowd dispersed. But as she made her way to her tent, Naomi brushed past, close enough to murmur, "You better get your hand off the pan before you get burned."

Gina snorted. "You better get your nose out of my business before it gets broken."

~m~

A pained cry woke her the next morning. Warily she crawled from her tent, and spotted a group huddled over something in the center of camp. As she drew closer, she realized it was one of the mothers, curled in a ball with her arms clasped tight around her stomach. Caan knelt at her side, murmuring something Gina couldn't catch.

"What's going on?" she asked.

They acted as though she hadn't spoken; their strained expressions never even twitched. Gina grimaced but kept silent until Caan finally stood, supporting the limp, tear-stricken mother with one arm.

"What's wrong with her?"

Caan regarded her coldly. "She's had a miscarriage."

A shocked murmur rose from the crowd. Caan brushed past them, leading the mother into his RV without answering anymore questions.

Gina slipped on a mask of dismay, though inside she sparked at the opportunity. Raising her voice just enough to be heard, she said, "Miscarriage? But I thought… The Keeper's children are supposed to survive, aren't they?"

Her words brought on a wave of near-hysteria. Crow and Foster settled things down, but could do nothing about the fear vining deeper behind everyone's eyes.

Coyote led a patrol a few hours later. Her usual bubbly demeanor dulled by the morning's events, it was refreshingly quiet journeying out.

"Gina?"

Of course, it couldn't last.

Extinguishing a sigh, Gina turned. They'd come to a small homestead. Owen and Nick ranged out to search a nearby barn.

Coyote's wide, dark eyes pleaded mournfully. "What do you think it meant, what happened this mornin'?"

_Nothing. It meant nothing, _she wanted to say. But she recognized the significance of what Coyote was asking, and that she was asking Gina.

So she painted her features with gentleness, channeled Mason's inner poetic crap and said, "Well… Nature, she's _changeable_. The seasons rotate, the predators eat the prey and then the earth eats them. And whenever there's an imbalance, these cycles work to correct it. Now Nature granted survival to Our Keeper's children because that fit the balance, but…if Nature is taking that back…"

Horror paled Coyote's face. "You—you think Nature no longer approves of his children?"

"I don't know. But if that's the case, I think…I think that would mean she no longer approves of _him_."

"No! No, she has to. He survived, he drank the blood of divinity…"

"It's difficult for me to believe, too. But we're _all _survivors."

"No. It's not our place to question his position. It's especially not mine." She sighed brokenly. "I don't know if you know this, Gina, but I…I wanted to be a mother. I wanted to do my part and carry Our Keeper's child. But I can't…have children. And he still kept me, even though I couldn't provide that."

This hit a nerve.

Gina grabbed Coyote's shoulder. "Listen to me," she growled. "Your ability to have kids isn't any indication of your worth. That's not just true now, that's _always _been true. You're not a test tube for his fucking genes, or anyone else's."

She gasped. "Gina—"

"No, fucking listen to me. I know what I'm talking about. My mother—"

_Was an indiscriminate breeder, an evil bitch, a soulless monster. _

She swallowed. "My mother wanted me whored out, so I could reel in the most _advantageous _man. I wasn't anything to her unless I was pretty, and popular, and—"

_(trapped trapped trapped)_

"—well-behaved. And it was all _bullshit_." She shuddered with rage, but…

_Rein it in. Remember where you are. _

"Look, all I'm saying is—"

A shout interrupted her. She looked up to see Owen and Nick backing away from the barn, stalked by a herd of about ten dead ones. She straightened, reaching for her knife, but Coyote stopped her.

"We're close to the pit," she said. "We'll lead 'em there."

They were able to set a quick pace; the corpses were fairly fresh and kept up well. No one spoke on the way back. Gina wondered what was going on behind Coyote's tight expression.

They were almost to the pit when they heard the scream.

"Oh," Coyote breathed. "That sounded like it came from camp."

Gina made the decision in that moment. "We're taking them back," she commanded, glancing at the dead. "Owen, Nick, you go on ahead and do whatever you have to. We'll be right behind you."

They did as she said without question. There was no fear in her as they moved forward, only exhilaration to finally be doing something.

The RV blocked the rest of camp from their view as they approached, which was just as well. They stayed hidden behind its bulk, knives drawn as they crept to its front. Voices carried on from somewhere in camp, though Gina could make out nothing of what they said. Behind them, the dead closed a gap of about five yards.

Gina peeked around the RV. Nine unfamiliar men prowled among the tents, all large and grungy and equipped with a range of weapons—pipes, knives, axes. No guns, as far as she could tell.

One of the men held Cricket close, scraping a hunting knife against her neck. Owen knelt before them, struggling against the thick chain another man had wrapped around his throat. Caan was nowhere to be seen, but there were Nick and Naomi, glaring defiantly at the intruders.

The dead were two yards away now.

A gap in the tents caught Gina's eye.

"Follow my lead," she hissed to Coyote and snuck around the RV.

It felt like it took an eternity, leading the dead to this particular opening without being seen, though she knew it was only seconds. Thankfully the way the tents were set up provided enough cover to do so at all.

By the time she made it, the dead were practically on her heels. Which was exactly what she needed.

No one saw her until it was too late. She swept in with the grace of a hunting cat, low to the ground. Her knife flashed as she severed the heels of the man clutching Cricket.

He buckled with a scream, tossing Cricket to the side. Gina rolled him out of the way, opening a path for the dead.

Coyote leapt in then, pulling one of the mothers out of the way while shoving an intruder to the dead. Some of the others took her lead, including Nick and Naomi. The latter raised her axe now Cricket was no longer a hostage. It made its home in the skull of one man before she kicked him away.

The man with the chain stumbled back, freeing Owen. Gina lunged for him, slashing his spine as he turned to run. It wasn't enough to stop him, but his footsteps stuttered and she was able to barrel into him. As they fell, Gina drove the knife into his side and twisted. He exhaled sharply and bucked, trying to throw her off.

Two corpses shuffled toward them. So Gina let him dislodge her, and watched as the corpses fell on him. His screams harmonized with the din around them.

Electricity coursed through her. She needed blood, she needed someone else to fight. Her sights zeroed in on Nick as one of the intruders flung him like a ragdoll, and her muscles sprung before she consciously told them to do so.

She rammed her knife into the back of his knee, effectively halting his advance. He swung around, snarling, but she flitted out of his reach. Her eyes fell on a nearby corpse, feasting on one of the outsiders. Grabbing it by its shoulders, she forced it to its feet and shoved it into the arms of Nick's attacker.

"_Mine_," she hissed, slouching into a territorial stance over Nick. But the man was a bit distracted by the corpse tearing into his face, and so didn't respond.

Thrumming with bloodlust, Gina wrenched Nick to his feet.

"Where's Naomi?" she asked.

"I don't know. I lost sight of her."

But at that moment, they spotted her, hacking some dude's leg out from under him before he could drive his pipe through a mother's skull.

Gina grinned. "There she is."

By the time they fought their way to her, it was essentially over. Only the dead remained, which Foster and Coyote went around dispatching.

Naomi raised an eyebrow, wiping blood and sweat from her brow. "Good timing."

"I like making an impressive entrance," Gina replied.

The RV door opened and Caan peeked out. Revulsion twisted Gina's face, but before she could make a move toward him, a keening went up from the center of camp.

Owen knelt over Cricket, holding her face in his hands. Her mouth moved, exhaling a bubble of blood but no sound. Deep red spilled from the gash in her throat.

"_No_!" he wailed, wild and desolate. "_No, please, don't._"

She touched his face briefly, speaking in blood and nothing more. Owen pulled her into his lap and pressed his forehead to hers, shaking.

"It's okay," he sobbed. "You're okay. Free, you're free, you're free now."

"Look at what you've done!"

Gina turned, half-expecting whoever it was to be talking to her. But the mother in question pointed an accusing finger at Caan, who looked around warily.

"You brought this on us," she continued, tears and anger distorting her face. "Nature is punishing us for your inaction. You coward! You _coward_!"

Caan stared her down, frozen for a split second before striding forward.

Gina, Naomi and Nick moved before he could reach her, barring his path. Nick glared unblinkingly, knife in his good hand. Naomi raised her axe, sun glittering on blood and blade. Gina grinned menacingly.

Foster, Crow and Mosquito took up positions at Caan's side, and a hush descended on the camp.

Coyote was the first to break it, stepping between the two groups.

"We have injured to tend to," she scolded. "Now's not the time for this hog-headed crap."

After a moment's hesitation, Nick and Naomi relaxed. But Gina's body wouldn't let her. Every cell felt sharpened, like those bits of bone in the Reeling Fields, eager to draw blood.

"Gina," Coyote pleaded.

In the red wash of lingering wrath, the sound of her name was intolerable.

Nick and Naomi tried to nudge her back. Murmuring her name. Her fucking name, the lie her mother tried to force her into, tried to trap her with…

"My beloveds," Caan said. "You look upon me with blame in your eyes. And yet I warned you, just yesterday, that there was a wolf in our midst. An unbeliever, a poisonous liar. Is it not suspect that these misfortunes descend immediately after taking in this woman?"

The crowd looked about uncertainly, but this didn't deter Gina from replying, "And who was it that decided to take me in? I'm sorry, I'm just blanking on that one."

"An act of mercy," Caan said. "Something I will never succumb to again."

Without warning, he shoved Coyote aside and snatched Gina by the throat. Nick and Naomi shouted in protest, diving forward to fight him off.

Mosquito kicked Nick to the ground. Foster slammed the butt of his machete against Naomi's temple and she collapsed.

Gina raked her knife down Caan's arm and he let her go. Crow, Foster and Mosquito ringed her. She slunk into a fighting crouch, more animal than human in that moment.

Caan quivered as he clutched his bleeding arm. "Look at this feral beast! She is faithless, bloodthirsty!"

"And if you'd listened to her, my sister would still be alive," Owen spoke up, grabbing a discarded rebar and climbing to his feet. Tears still ran down his face, but his eyes were clearer than Gina had ever seen them.

"In his dream," Gina said, addressing everyone else, "he claimed the snake was protecting the camp. Keeping out the darkness. But what if it was really just keeping everyone _in_? _What if the snake is keeping you trapped_?"

The whole crowd flinched, mute with unease.

"I brought the risen to you today because I know the lengths we need to go to defend ourselves," she carried on. "I tried to convince your _Keeper _to go to these lengths and he refused. Tell me who the poisonous one is."

"Do not let the wolf plant these lies in you. You took the venom. You are _pure_—"

"He _forces _the venom on you when he never took it himself. You are _stronger _than he is!"

"She's right," Owen said. "Without us, he is _nothing_."

Slowly, distress crept into realization, outrage, awakening; Gina saw it in nearly every eye she met. Her spine straightened as a new spark ran through her.

"_He _is the poison holding you hostage," she declared. "_I _am the fucking antidote and I can _free you_!"

In the corner of her eye, movement. Foster, sunlight glinting silver off his machete. Gina twisted, raising her knife, but Coyote beat her there. She grappled briefly with Foster before kneeing him in the stomach, stealing his weapon and driving it through his throat.

Mosquito rushed to stop her, but Nick tackled him to the ground. Crow's angry shout cut short as Owen cracked his head open with the rebar.

And in the middle of the chaos, an opening. Gina lunged for it, ducking Caan's grasping hands, and came up within the circle of his arms.

His pale eyes flashed wide with fear a heartbeat before she sank her teeth in his neck.

Blood spurted into her mouth, nearly choking her, but she didn't let go. She refused, even as his hands ripped at her hair and skin, even as he staggered back. She wrapped herself around him, jaws clamped like a bear trap.

When his struggles began to weaken, she reasserted her grip and shook her head like a dog with a toy. Something inside of her had crawled loose, taken hold of her bones, gripped the base of her skull. Something inside of her had broken free.

She drank his blood deeply, until he was still.

When she finally let go, she was sure she wasn't the same person. It felt fucking amazing. She raised her head, chin dripping blood, and looked around at her audience with new eyes.

They tensed as she stood, but didn't flee. Their trepidation surrounded her, but so did their awe.

"I drank the blood of the snake," she said. "I conquered his illusions with teeth and vengeance alone. He wasn't wrong when he said a wolf would destroy all he built here, but all he built were lies. It's time you were free."

She glanced at Owen, watching her with intense, red-rimmed eyes, and Coyote, whose whole face was lit up with devotion. She glanced at Nick, crouched over Naomi's prone form, and felt a spasm of violence where her spine met this new creature inside her.

"The time of the Wolf is upon us," she raged on. "The world is ours now, it's _yours_. If you're willing to take it."

A slight hesitation, and then the others drew closer, tightening the circle around her. She took that as a yes.

"I am the Wolf the snake wanted to keep you from. I am the whisperer in the night." And as she spoke, the violence inside her swelled until she couldn't decide if it was pain or pleasure.

She bared her teeth.

"I am Alpha."

_**Four years after the Fall, by approximation of moon cycles**_

Alpha looked out over the dead-speckled streets, barely seeing them. Murph had given her a lot to consider, but she couldn't summon up the proper excitement.

Somewhere out there, right now probably, Mason was preparing the Alexandrians for war. More involved than Alpha had thought to expect, after the way her and her Kingdom knelt for Negan. More involved than Alpha had ever wanted her, certainly.

She sighed. It complicated everything. Everyone that came in contact with Mason could not reveal their connection to Alpha. She could not reveal herself to Mason, not until the proper introduction was arranged. It was no longer as simple as claiming Alexandria so they could stop fighting the dead and focus on the Saviors from behind secure walls. It was no longer as simple as eliminating the Saviors so that she could go to the Kingdom and say that _she _freed them, to see Mason fall on her knees with gratitude and be _hers _again.

"Fucking Alexandrians," she hissed.

"What'd they do this time?"

Alpha turned. The Wolf that approached wore a dead mask, axes and knives decorating their belt. She hadn't seen this one in a while, and her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Decided to come back, huh?"

The Wolf scoffed and pulled off the mask, shaking her black hair loose.

"Shut up, Gina," Naomi grunted. "God, I'm the first one you turn to for the dirtiest, trickiest jobs and then you get pissy when it takes me a while."

Alpha grinned darkly. "Do I look pissy?"

"You always look pissy."

She allowed that one. "So how'd this particular dirtiest, trickiest job go?"

"I mean, it…" Naomi slapped her hands against her thighs. "It was a job. Satellite outpost fully poisoned, or I wouldn't be here. It only took a fucking _month_. You know, if you could just spare a few of your precious Wolves, these things would get done a lot faster."

"Yes, but you want a job done _right_, you only send the best."

"Oh, you are not _even _trying to flatter me right now."

Alpha laughed. "But it's so fucking easy…"

"Look, I'm running on very little sleep and, like, two acorns. I just came up to report to you, so…" She mimed a salute. "Now I'm gonna go pass out for three days…"

"Wait," Alpha commanded.

Naomi paused with a sigh. "_What_?"

"The Alexandrians are stubborn bitches and we're gonna need to come up with something really clever for them, that's what."

Unease crossed Naomi's expression, the ghost of who she'd been in Arkansas.

"You know I don't want to be involved in any of that…" It was why she worked exclusively on Savior missions.

"I'm not just asking you. I'm gathering the Shadow Council later tonight." Naomi, Coyote, Murph, Owen, Nick and Alpha herself made up the Shadow Council. The only people Alpha vaguely trusted.

Naomi groaned. "_Tonight_? I _just _said I'm passing out for three days."

Alpha ignored this and pointed in the general direction of Alexandria. "Be thinking about it."

Of course, they couldn't disclose everything with Naomi, or Nick, for that matter. A separate meeting would have to be held beforehand, so that no one slipped up and revealed the Kingdom's involvement.

She shook her head. Sometimes, being Alpha was almost more effort than it was worth.

Almost.

But though she was exhausted, she refused to let it weigh her down. She'd never gotten anywhere by quitting. And hopefully soon, she'd be sleeping within the walls of the Safe Zone, one enemy down.

She grinned and followed Naomi inside.

**A/N: So real quick, I just wanted to mention that Owen is Owen from the actual show, the Wolf that kidnaps Denise. And I forgot to mention before that Nick is Nick from FTWD (if you've seen it), because he was basically the only character on there that I truly liked (and Victor. Gotta love a lying little bastard lol) It was fun for me in this chapter to play around with Alpha being possessive and thinking she's being protective. That comparison may or may not be a pretty big subplot later on. But as interesting as it is to get sucked into Alpha's world, I'm excited to get back to Team Family. Next chapter will likely be more lighthearted for the most part, just to give you a breather from all the craziness, but we ARE coming up on a pretty intense chapter fairly soon. So keep an eye out for that. Until then, thanks so much for reading and much love xoxo**


	12. Ways to Go

**A/N: Hello, all! So this chapter is considerably shorter than the last two, and considerably lighter, because I always try to provide a little break after Alpha chapters. The chapter song is "Ways to Go" by Grouplove, it truly fits this part like a glove. Also, there is a little reveal about Mason in this that I want to talk about at the end. Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing, it truly means the world to me. Hope you enjoy!**

12\. Ways to Go

"So this fool—this beautiful, absolute and utter _fool_—just _insists _he can carry it all. Popcorn, extra large drink. My Milk Duds…"

"Eric, sweetheart. Nobody likes Milk Duds." Aaron smiled warmly over Denise's head while she inspected his splint.

"Actually _somebody _does, and this somebody was questioning whether their dignity would survive taking you anywhere in public," Eric replied. "Anyway, so he's carrying all this, and when the drink inevitably starts tipping, he does _this_ weird little move."

Beth smiled as Eric reenacted said move. Abraham laughed briefly before wincing, and she shot him a stern look. "Thought I told you to keep still."

"Eh, who needs to heal?" he replied, but did as she said anyway.

"Like he's gonna grab it with a second pair of hands or something," Eric continued. "Which then leads to him losing his balance, which _then _leads to him tumbling down the entire flight of stairs and fracturing his wrist."

"I was trying to impress you," Aaron said.

"Well, let me tell you, you unambiguously _did not_."

Mason cackled. She sat cross-legged on the hospital cot Carol had vacated a few days ago, finally recovered from her anemia.

"Hey," Aaron protested. "I'm sitting here in a splint, and you're going to laugh about the _other _time I broke something?"

"Okay, you're right, I'm sorry," Mason said, still giggling. "But, dude, at least you embarrassed yourself in front of someone who loves you. I can tell you a story—well, actually I could probably tell you a bunch of stories. But this one time in particular still makes me want to light myself on fire."

Beth glanced up, wondering if it was something she'd heard before.

"Ooh, this sounds like a good one," Eric said.

"Yeah, I mean it depends what side of the story you're on, but…" Mason cleared her throat, like she was about to give a very serious speech. "So there was this really pretty cashier, and it's been scientifically proven that I'm a dumbass around really pretty cashiers. I went to this store a lot, so we kind of knew each other, and I tried to flirt but, like, I suck at that so I don't think it ever really landed.

"Anyway, the point is that one day I went to pay for my shit, and when she looked up she said, 'Oh, hey, I missed you!' And inwardly I was like, 'Oh, that's a little unexpected, we don't know each other _that _well,' but, like, she had beautiful eyes and I'm an awkward, one-brain-cell-having motherfucker. So I said, 'Aw, I missed you, too'."

"Oh _no_," Abraham said with a grin.

"Oh, yep. She gives me _the _most mortifying 'what the fuck' look, and I turn around to see her boyfriend standing behind me. He actually, like, waved at me and said, 'Hey, I'm her boyfriend'."

"_Oh no_!" Abraham crowed.

"Yeah, but that's…not the end of the story. Unfortunately."

Eric looked horrified. "Oh, god, there's more?"

Mason rubbed the back of her neck. "Well…so I'm trying to get out of there as quick as possible, you know. And as I'm going to leave, my bag catches on the little bag stand and tears, and my jar of pickles shatters on the floor. And at this point I can't even fucking _see _straight, I'm so embarrassed, but I'm like, 'oh shit, I'll clean that up', you know. And…as I'm going off to find some towels or, I don't know, some dignity or something…I slip. In the pickle juice. And…yeah. Perfect storm."

The laughter nearly drowned her out at that point, although Beth tried her best to control her own so she could keep Abraham from tearing his stitches.

"You poor thing," Eric said.

"It's all good, I almost always bring that shit on myself anyway."

Everyone else chuckled at this, but Beth gave Mason a searching look. Mason held her gaze a moment before looking away.

A few more stories were shared before Denise dismissed Beth to get some sleep. Mason left with her, tipping an imaginary hat to the others in awkward farewell.

"Well," Beth said as they stepped out into the humid night. "I always knew you were a dork, but I didn't know just how much."

Mason sighed. "I shouldn't have told that story."

"Probably not."

"Well, if I didn't tell it, the Misfits were bound to, so…"

"Did you ever see that cashier again?"

"Uh, no… Pretty much stopped shopping there after the incident."

Beth giggled. "Aw, that's so sad."

"You don't sound sad."

"I am." She worked to make her expression one of deepest sympathy.

"No, you're not, you little shit."

"_Little_?"

"What?"

"I'm taller than you, Mason."

"Fucking—_everyone _is taller than me, shut up."

They didn't go inside when they made it to Beth's house, though she was pretty tired. Aside from training, tonight in the infirmary was the first time she and Mason had actually hung out in the past week, and she wanted it to last. So she sat on one of the steps and motioned for Mason to join her.

"I'll stay up with you until your watch shift."

Mason hesitated. "Oh, you don't have to. You should get some sleep."

"It's okay. It's almost time anyway."

Mason sat, drumming her fingers on her knees. "So I keep meaning to ask, did you ever want to be some kind of medic before? I remember you said you wanted to be a singer, but I know that's not, um, a practical option these days."

"Well, I've always wanted to help people. My dad was a vet, I don't think I told you that."

"You did, actually. That's how you said you were able to pet a fox. He had to sedate it after it was hit by that car, and you got to pet it while it was out."

Beth smiled, flushing a little that Mason remembered so much. "Right. So I was plannin' on workin' at his clinic for a while after high school. But I was thinkin', if the whole singin' thing didn't work out, I kinda wanted to be a social worker or somethin' like that."

She shrugged, feeling a pinch of loss at all she'd dreamed of before. Becoming such a successful singer-songwriter that she'd have all the time and money in the world to help people. And, of course, own a plot of land big enough to house several dozen dogs.

"Anyway, things aren't exactly the same anymore, so… I don't know, lettin' Denise teach me just seemed like the closest option. I want to help people, just…without hurtin' others, if I can."

Slowly, something dimmed in Mason's expression. Beth blinked. What had she said?

"So, um…can I ask when you got the tattoos? I really like 'em. I mean, the ones I can see. But you obviously didn't have 'em before, so…"

It was a clumsy subject change, but Mason smiled.

"Dray's a tattoo artist. We were lucky enough to stumble on a parlor sort of nearby, but we haven't had a chance to go back. We're out of ink here. But yeah, I had them done over the winter."

"Cool! I really like tattoos, but I don't know if I could ever get one."

"I bet you could." Mason nudged her gently. "What would you get?"

"Um… Well, probably a bird of some kind. Is that cliché?"

"Who cares, if it's something you like."

"Also some lyrics come to mind."

"Ooh, like what—"

The front door opened, making them jump. Beth glanced up to see Maggie striding toward them.

"Oh, hey," she said. "What are you doin' up?"

"Switched shifts with Tyreese. So I've got watch with you until dawn," she said coolly, addressing Mason without looking at her.

_Oh, no._

Mason hopped up. "Um. Okay, sure. Guess I'll head out, Beth. 'Night."

"See ya, Mason," she replied, and shot Maggie a warning glance when Mason wasn't looking.

Maggie just raised an eyebrow, clearly not giving two shits.

Reluctantly Beth watched them go, half-tempted to follow and play referee. But after a moment, she went inside, wishing Maggie hadn't interrupted. Wishing she could understand the shadow moving behind Mason's eyes, those moments when she drew back without moving an inch.

~m~

"So. Beth tells me you're pregnant with your second kid. That's cool."

Maggie stayed silent and Mason's unease grew. It had been quiet for a good half hour, which meant there were still four and a half to go, and good god, if this was how they were going to be spent…

Well, if Maggie didn't want to talk, that was fine. In fact, it would've been ideal—no pathetic attempts at small talk on her end—if Mason couldn't also sense the hostility radiating from her.

_Just ignore it. Get through the next few hours. You're fine._

"Seems like it's pretty quiet out there," Maggie finally said. "So you and I are gonna talk."

Anxiety twisted Mason's stomach like a rag. "Okay."

"Beth told me. About meetin' you in Georgia, and how you saved her. Thank you for that."

"Oh. That's—"

"She also told me how she risked her life to heal your wound. How you kissed her. And how you left her."

Shame washed over her. "I know. I—"

"This isn't a two-sided conversation. My sister came out to you. She trusted you, and you fuckin' left her in the woods. Now she didn't want me to talkin' to you about this, but I want it clear between you and me. Beth says y'all are just friends right now, but I'm not an idiot. She clearly still has feelin's for you."

Mason flinched.

"I'm not gonna pretend to know what your intentions are—"

"I don't have any intentions."

"Shut up. I don't know what your intentions are, but whatever happens, whether you're friends with my sister or more or less, you _are_ goin' to treat her right. If you don't, I'll string you upside down from a tree and let the walkers have at your lyin' throat. Got it?"

She swallowed. "Yes."

Maggie turned back to the dark scenery before them, and Mason pitied any unwelcome visitors that passed by.

The rest of the shift crawled by in tense silence, with nothing to distract Mason from her thoughts. She tried to focus them on practical things, like how to juggle scavenging with training and whether or not she could trade a few solitary patrol shifts for supply runs. Despite spending a majority of time in the training yard with Beth, Eugene and whatever audience decided to stop by, she was doing a good job of staying separate from the community. She'd had enough practice at this point, she supposed it was second nature. Didn't change the fact that solitude could be tedious at times.

Today, however, Mason had actually asked Beth if they could hang out. Point blank, right after combat training. Partially because she felt guilty, holding Beth—and Eugene, for that matter—at arm's length. As if _they _had done something wrong. And partially because she really did miss spending time with Beth.

Impatiently she shook her head. _You're supposed to be thinking of practical things._

Right. Training schedule. Tomorrow would just be her and Eugene because Beth had infirmary shifts with Denise, and he needed to focus on his agility and endurance. Strength training wasn't going to be a problem for him with the way he was built; he would put on muscle in a snap.

Of course, it didn't _feel_ like a snap, the proximity with him. Not just the physical shit, but she constantly had to remind herself not to just start…_talking _to him. At least about anything other than the most superficial.

But tomorrow it would be just her, just him, and she'd be lying if that didn't make her heart jump notches she'd rather it not be jumping…

_Practical things, you dumb bitch._

Right. Right.

She spent the rest of the watch shift making mental lists of all the things she'd have to be looking for out on supply runs. Produce was the priority for next month, but she knew the Saviors would be demanding clothes in preparation for fall and winter.

Stress tightened her muscles. How the fuck were they going to keep Alexandria from Negan? And how the double fuck had they stayed under his radar for so long anyway? Ideas tangled her mind into knots. None of them that would work in the long term, except of course…

Eliminating the Saviors permanently was the only real solution. But…

Originally when she'd met the Alexandrians, she'd hoped for allies, and not just that but people willing to _fight_. There was no doubt Alexandria were fighters, but now, after living among them… Asking that of them felt like a betrayal.

And picturing Beth…Eugene…_fighting _the Saviors?

She flinched. No. No. She knew damn well what happened to people who went up against Negan. Her mind railed against it, but the memories crept in anyway. She heard again that dark, throaty chuckle, the whistling, saw the blood trailing thick ribbons from a baseball bat…

The thought of having that anywhere near Eugene or Beth made her shake.

_You can't keep it from them._

She clenched her jaw. Fuck if she couldn't. But it wasn't confidence behind the words, just desperation.

Her own failings as Champion, with her own people, piled one on top of the other, until she was certain her brain would burst and they'd come spilling out. All shame, all guilt, laid bare for everyone to see…

_Stop it. You won't solve anything feeling sorry for yourself. _

Right. Practical things.

By the end of the shift, she was more frustrated than anything, her mind going round in circles. Maggie climbed off the platform to report to Sasha and Tyreese, who were to take over for them. Mason slipped away quickly, before any of them could speak to her.

She hesitated before heading to Beth's house. It was probably better if she got a few hours' rest; she always lost out on sleep switching to a nocturnal schedule. But her nerves were too wired. Maybe a run would level them out.

She retrieved her iPod, careful not to wake Beth. It promised to be a sweltering day; she breathed deeply as she jogged down the porch steps, relishing the humidity.

"Mason."

She looked up, surprised to see Rick and Eugene heading toward her. Eugene held a handgun, magazine out, so she figured they were discussing ammunition.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Didn't you just get off watch shift?" Rick asked.

"Yeah. I was gonna head out for a quick run. If that's okay." She added this last as an afterthought, wondering if she was being rude not asking permission.

"You should get some sleep." The note of concern threw her more than it would have if it had been an order.

"O—oh, I will. I just need to stretch my legs a bit first."

Eugene frowned. "Will you be rested enough for training today or will you require a later start time?"

"I'll be fine, don't worry. Hey, do you wanna come with me?" The words were out before she could really think them through. She blushed. "I mean, you don't have to. If you're busy or whatever, I just thought it could count toward our warm-up run…"

"Actually, ma'am, that sounds nice. Rick and I were just determining cartridge count. Now that we have time and some bullets under our belt, we can allow a little more methodical makery and start replenishing all firearms instead of a few select pieces."

Rick waved them away, more good-natured than annoyed. "Go on. I'll ask Olivia to make up a full list so it's ready for you next time you head to the forge."

He bid them both farewell, reminding Mason to get some sleep. When he was gone, Eugene smiled.

"If you would just allow me five minutes to change into apparel more appropriate for calisthenics, and then we can be on our way."

She snorted, her tension already dissolving. "_Calisthenics_. This isn't some…1980's…leg warmer…happy bounce time operation I'm running here."

A startled giggle cracked his usual composure. "1980's Leg Warmer Happy Bounce Time Operation? Well, cards on the table, ma'am, that sounds like a fun time to _me_."

"Shut up."

~m~

"Oh my god, you goofball. Move your arms."

Mason slowed her jog so she could reach out and adjust Eugene's arms. He blushed, although he wasn't sure she could even tell as, given the fact he felt about an inch from death, his face was likely already red.

"You run like Tina Belcher," she teased and he pulled to a full stop.

"I…you…that's…" He paused to catch his breath enough to speak in full sentences. "Maybe my running in that manner streamlines my movements."

"I promise you, it doesn't." She inspected him a moment before reaching for the mini backpack she carried. "Here, let's take a water break."

_Thank the maker._

He drank deeply while Mason leaned against a nearby tree and pulled her hair into a side ponytail. He reached behind the curtain of his hair to rub the sweat from his neck.

"You wouldn't happen to have another one of those hair ties?"

She blinked and held up her wrist to show him a row of three hair ties.

"I got you covered, bruh."

He took one gratefully.

"So may I ask you a question?" he asked.

Instantly she looked wary. "Yeah…"

"What made you choose the hair? Also please let it here be known that I truly do love it, and I hope you will inform me if it is untoward of me to ask. It is just that, as someone who has chosen quite a specific hairstyle myself, I often find the reasoning behind others intriguing."

"Oh." She smiled, relaxing. "Well, I'm Native American. Half, on my mom's side. And I had some really ballsy ancestors. Back in the day, the warriors in my tribe would shave their hair in interesting ways to make their scalps more valuable to scalpers, to help draw the attention away from the women and children back home. Pretty fucking badass, right?"

Struck by the explanation, he merely nodded.

"I mean, this style is pretty cool, because it spans different cultures with different backstories, including mine. Loads of different people get this done, which I'm honestly all for, but… Well, my mom didn't really talk too much about our tribe, like specifics or anything. Her family went through some shit, because they were Native and…um, yeah."

She shook her head, obviously dismissing some other story.

"But anyway, I'm paying homage to the spirit of what it represented. I'm, you know, the first line of defense for my people. Does that make sense or is that silly?"

"It is absolutely not silly, but it _is _fitting, ma'am."

She ducked her head. "Well, thanks. Can I ask _you _a question?"

"Of course."

Her eyes twinkled. "Why the hair? And don't get me wrong, I love it, but as someone who's chosen a specific hairstyle, I find the reasoning behind others intriguing."

Eugene bit his lip to keep from grinning. "It is not as noble a reasoning as yours. There actually is Native blood in my lineage—"

"Really? Sweet." Mason held her hand out for a high five.

"Yes, ma'am, but it is more like a quarter at most. In any case, it certainly had no bearing on my tresses, as I have been informed on many occasions that my current style is exclusive to rednecks."

Mason failed to hold back a laugh. "That's why it's so long in the back. To hide all that red."

"Yes, you figured it out." He glared playfully. "But back to addressing your question. It is simply because I like it, and because I wanted… Well, by all accounts, I wanted…to be seen." This last was harder to get out, though he wasn't sure why. He wasn't even sure it made sense, but Mason nodded thoughtfully.

"I see you," she said, and the way she said it made him feel less embarrassed by the admission.

"I see you, too." He spoke gently at first, but then his eyes narrowed. "I see that you are about to make me run again, aren't you?"

She grinned. "You shouldn't have said it would be nice to come with me."

"I should have said I had business to attend to elsewhere. With my feet up and a coffee in my hand."

"Hey, you're the one that wanted me to train you. I bet one of these days you're going to wake up and be like, 'You know what? I fucking love running. I am a jogging slut.'"

"Pardon my outright doubt, Miss Mason. We're not all blessed with athleticism."

"C'mon, Eugene, you're not bad, you're just not in the habit. Let me rub off on you." She blinked. "Wait, no—"

He spared her by snorting. "Okay, you're blessed with athleticism, and incontestably zero composure. By all accounts, I feel a lot better. Now let's get this over with."

So they finished their run. Eugene suspected Mason kept it short for his benefit, though she did promise they'd be running again before their actual training session.

He glared darkly. "If you are trying to kill me, I'd rather you just get it over with."

"That's not my execution style."

As they walked through the Safe Zone gate, the lightness in her expression faded, became neutral, careful. This became out-and-out unease as Carol approached them, although Eugene was fairly certain Mason was not aware of all the legitimate reasons to be afraid of Carol.

"Hey. Nice run?" She smirked at Eugene, fully aware that running made him want to lie facedown in the dirt and die.

He sniffed. "Exceptional, Ms. Peletier."

"Uh huh." She held a Tupperware container out to Mason. "These are for you. I baked them fresh this morning."

"Really?" She peeked inside at the cookies. "That's sweet. But I couldn't…I mean, you should—"

"They're for _you_," Carol said firmly. "For all your help. I have some made up for your friends, too, don't worry."

"Well. Thank you."

Carol nodded and left, presumably to find the current squad of Misfits.

"Um." Mason held the container to her chest. "That was really nice."

Eugene's heart hurt a little, seeing her so bewildered by a simple gift. He nodded and touched her arm. "You should get some sleep."

"Right. Yeah." She shook her head and elbowed him. "Thanks for coming with me even though you had a terrible time."

"I didn't have a terrible time, Mason. Just a…physically ambitious time."

"Ah, well, same difference, right? I'm gonna pass out for a few hours. Be ready to kick ass when I get up. And hey, remember to drink your water, okay?"

"Yes, Miss Champion."

~m~

Eugene sat on one of the shaded benches fringing the training yard, coiling and uncoiling Mason's hair tie to keep his thoughts centered.

More Alexandrians than usual utilized the yard these days, honing their skills. It was part of why there was always an audience whenever Mason was instructing, to gain insight into the way she fought so that any new techniques might be absorbed. Which was precisely his objective now.

Mason herself still slept, but Morgan was instructing Tyreese in aikido, and Michonne was practicing with her sword a little ways off. Eugene observed each of them in turn, trying to notice little things, storing away movements and stances that might better his own form.

It startled him when Beth sat beside him with a cheery, "Hey, Eugene."

"Miss Greene," he greeted her.

"Denise let me off for lunch, so I thought I'd have it with you. PB and J?"

He took the sandwich she offered, wary of the strain recent events had put on their friendship. But all she said as she bit into her own sandwich was, "You look like you're concentratin' real hard. Tryin' to move the Earth with your mind?"

Relieved, he said, "Why move what is currently turning on its own? I am merely trying to accumulate what data I can vis-à-vis battle tactics and the different ways to approach conflict."

"Anythin' good?"

"Well…while I respect the philosophy behind aikido, and Morgan and Ty for pursuing it, I do not think it is particularly practical given the perilous climate of everything. However, the _concept_ of redirection I think could be rendered perfect curveball material, allowing for appropriate adjustments. A knife up one's sleeve, as it were. So I am trying to study and cipher out what aspects might marry well with both my current and future fighting style."

"Uh huh…"

"A bit like how Iroh devised new firebending moves by studying the waterbenders in _Avatar _lore."

"Oh. Cool. And what about Michonne?"

"I have established that she could kick my ass."

Beth laughed. "Well, no duh. She could kick God's ass."

She split a peach with him while they talked, and though he was pleased, he also felt a twinge of sadness. They hadn't hung out like this in a while. He hadn't realized how much he missed it until now.

But after a while, her cheery expression faded to one he couldn't read.

"So I was hopin' we could talk."

He sighed. "Yes, that is probably a good idea."

She glanced at him, and her eyes were penetrating. "Can we start it out by bein' honest, and not bullshit each other?"

"No bullshit, I give my word."

"Then I think, as your friend, I should tell you that I still have feelin's for Mason. And whenever…_if _ever she's ready for a relationship, I am goin' to try for it."

It didn't surprise him in the least, but his heart still sank.

"Okay. I thank you for your frankness. But in the spirit of that, as _your _friend, it's only fair that I confess to maintaining my feelings for her as well. And that I…I desire the same as you, if she would ever have me."

Beth was quiet a moment before nodding. "Good. I mean, I'm glad we got that out in the open, not good about the…actual situation."

"I'll admit, it is not the most comfortable standpoint to have arrived at," he agreed.

Miraculously, they both laughed.

"Look, I know this technically makes us…rivals, I guess?"

Eugene squinted. "By _definition_…"

"But you're still one of my best friends," Beth went on. "And I want that to be true by the end of this, no matter how it plays out."

"It will, Beth," he promised. "However, speaking with candor, nothing more, I am of the unfortunate belief that things are still going to be awkward for a while."

"Oh, definitely."

They sat in companionable silence for a while, until Beth patted his hand and stood up.

"I've gotta get back to the infirmary. Don't let Mason kick your ass too hard, alright?"

"I absolutely cannot promise that."

Smiling, she tossed him the last of the peach and left.

So…things weren't resolved. Nowhere near that. But he was glad that they'd talked, nerve-wracking as it was. Of course, it likely wasn't necessary, in the end. It felt assumptive and indulgent to think he could pose any kind of true competition against Beth.

But when he spotted Mason walking over a while later, grinning a hello at him, he couldn't help thinking that it never hurt to dream.

**A/N: So when I wrote the OG series, I was big on never describing Mason too much. There's nothing necessarily wrong with painting out what exactly an OC looks like, but as a main character, I wanted readers to picture her how they wanted to picture her. I still stand by that, with one major exception: that she is Native American. I won't get too personal here, but I am Mohawk myself, and certain things kept me from really claiming that part of myself in my writing. I remember being asked, all the way back in Heathens, if I had any face claims for Mason, and it was so frustrating trying to find someone who looked like the person in my head that I honestly just...picked an actress and called it a day. But I want representation, so I'm providing it myself. All this being said, I am still not going to get into many specifics of what Mason looks like, in the spirit of leaving it open to the reader's imagination. But yeah. She's Native, baby. Also I find it hard to believe that no one else in the group has Native blood, so...within reason, I'm fleshing out my headcanons.  
**

**Anyway, I know this chapter was mainly Roast Mason TimeTM lol There will still be some fluffiness in the next chapter, but also some heaviness, and then after that, it's time for that intense chapter I mentioned! As always, thank you so much for reading, it means so much to me. Until next time! xoxo**


	13. Keep the Wolves Away

**A/N: Hello, guys! So there are definitely some more lighthearted moments in this chapter, but I also tried to balance it out with some less happy stuff, so hopefully you enjoy. The chapter song is "Keep the Wolves Away" by Uncle Lucius, which to me honestly sounds like it could've actually been in TWD. It's just got that _sound_, ya know? Anyway, thank you all so much for reading and reviewing, I know I always say it, but it truly does mean the world to me!**

13\. Keep the Wolves Away

_A shotgun bang, and the light above her head exploded in a flash of sparks. Mason ducked, throwing her arms up as she barreled into a walker and shoved it into the wall. Its back cracked with the impact. She kicked its head in against the concrete._

_A cry went up behind her. Instinct had her ducking in time to avoid a blow to the head, and pivoting to pass side by side with her attacker. Her knife slashed his flank as he passed by._

_He fell to his knees, dropping his now-spent gun, but there was no time to take advantage of this. A second, taller man raced toward her, raising a glass bottle._

_Mason caught his wrist before he could smash it against her head. Her other hand wheeled round to stab him first in the stomach, and then in the throat._

_Blood showered her face. She shook her head impatiently to clear her vision, and turned back to her first attacker._

_Crouched on his knees, one hand pressed to the wound in his side, he was the easiest target in the world._

_She didn't hesitate. The blade flashed as she drove it through the base of his skull._

_It was only in the silence after that she realized she had an audience. The broken light sparked again as she turned to her right, where several yards down a long hallway, thirty people bore witness to her carnage._

_Slowly, she breathed out the violence. Straightened her body, sheathed her knife. Red rolled down her fingers and dotted the cement floor._

_The group flinched as she took a step toward them, so she retracted it. _

"_Wh—who the hell are you?" a man in front demanded. He had his arms spread, barring the way to a tall woman and two young kids._

_Mason twitched. She was covered in blood. She was covered in so much of it._

_Trembling, she held her hands out._

"_It's okay," she said. "I'm here to help."_

~m~

"Yo. You alright, dude?"

Jerry waved a hand in front of Mason's face.

"Uh. Y—yeah, yeah." She shook her head. "Sorry."

"Hey, it's cool, boss." He grinned cheerfully. "A poet's gotta daydream."

She prowled deeper into the thrift store. "I'm not a poet, Jear-Bear."

"Your poetry begs to differ."

They cleared the store without issue and set to work sifting through the racks and dividing clothes into two piles.

"Hey! What's the verdict on this one?" Jerry held up a fuzzy pink sweater dotted with multicolored pom-poms.

"_Oh_, shit. I thought I had a winner, but now I don't know." Mason held up her own find, a dress of vomit green and cheese puff orange.

"Woo, that is straight 70's, no chaser," Jerry said.

"It looks like they cut it from that carpet in _The Shining_."

"How about we split the difference?"

Mason laughed and they both tossed their ugly finds in the Saviors pile.

They moved quickly, gathering a variety of sizes and types and splitting them among the boxes. Every few minutes, Jerry would holler the name of a song and Mason would sing it. Inevitably this led to both of them dancing through the aisles, belting out the lyrics to "Paparazzi" by Lady Gaga.

"Okay. Dude." Jerry held his hands out when they reached the end of the song. "You really need to stop distracting me."

"You really need to stop requesting absolute bangers."

But for all the lightheartedness, all the games they tried to turn this trip into, they couldn't ignore the end result of their labors. They examined the Saviors pile, twice the size of the one meant for the Kingdom.

"Half our shit, my ass," Mason muttered.

"Yeah… But, hey, at least you found those shoes for Ava! She's gonna be the flyest one in the joint."

"Eh, she's already cooler than most of the adults I know."

"True that."

It was still dark as they loaded the truck. This little town was the furthest they'd ventured out for supplies since Culpeper. They hadn't needed to, even with the severe depletion of provisions after the war.

But now they needed to.

Dread flowered in her stomach. They grew most of their food now, but the Saviors were consuming their supplies quicker than self-sufficiency could replenish it. And what then? When they ran out of places to scavenge, when the months caught up with them, when the debt grew until they could no longer put food in their own mouths?

_Relax. It's just a clothing run._

Yeah. This time. But how often recently had they resorted to scavenging to fill holes their homegrown supplies could not fill? And what about the Hilltop? They were out there scavenging, too. Sometimes they beat the Kingdom certain places and cleaned them out. Alexandria, too, though certainly not to the same degree.

_Relax, _she told herself. _Relax. _

The Saviors upped their quota to prepare for winter. That was standard. This would even out.

They were about to pull out of town when Mason sat up in her seat.

"Wait, wait."

Jerry pulled to a stop. "What's good, boss?"

"That pawn shop." She pointed, then opened her door. "I'll be right back."

She jogged to the building, casually whacking a walker out of the way with her shield. Inside, shadows and silence greeted her. She shone her flashlight on the object that had caught her eye. Its blade gleamed like a crescent moon in the display window.

"Hell yeah."

~m~

An hour after sunrise, they arrived back at the Kingdom. Dave and Lily, just returned after their stay in Alexandria, helped Mason and Jerry unload their haul. Part of it, at least. The Saviors' half they'd already dropped off at a separate depository.

Jerry, Dave and Lily all ganged up on Mason when she said she wanted to go for a run, insisting she needed to sleep. So she followed Dave and Lily back to the house, piled on the living room floor with them, Renee and Tanner, and waited for them to fall asleep. Then she carefully extracted herself and went for her run.

It wasn't that she didn't want to sleep. It was that sometimes, she felt better exhausted.

She kept it to a half hour this time, too hungry to stay out longer. When she returned, the doors to the dining hall were open, enticing early risers inside with the warm scent of breakfast.

She hurried through the breakfast line. Now that she'd paid her penance for the food she originally lent Alexandria, she allowed herself to take a bit more than she had been. But she hesitated when she realized how crowded the tables were. She searched futilely for any of her Misfits but it seemed they were still asleep.

"Hey, Mason!"

The bubbly greeting made her jump, but relief filled her all the way to her toes when she spotted Beth, Eugene and Daryl heading toward her.

"Morning, guys."

"We were wonderin' where you were. We didn't see you back at the house," Beth said.

"Oh, I slept for a few hours when Jerry and I finished patrol shift, but I still woke up early because…I wanted to fit in a quick run."

Not a total lie. But though Beth and Daryl seemed to accept it, Eugene narrowed his eyes. She fidgeted. She'd never been the best liar, but it was like she didn't even have a chance at one around him.

Beth and Daryl went off to fix their plates, but Eugene paused beside her.

"You didn't sleep at all," he said quietly.

"Yeah, so what's it to you?" she grumbled.

"Merely a concerned bystander."

"Well, go stand by someone else. Nosy fucking…"

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling, but didn't push it.

When they all had their food, Mason motioned to the door. "Let's find a spot outside."

"Why?" Daryl pointed to a table in the back that was only half full. "There's room at that one, c'mon."

"No, because I—"

But her excuse dried up when the three of them looked at her.

Daryl shook his head impatiently. "C'mon, man, I'm hungry."

Reluctantly, she followed them to the table, keeping her eyes on her food. Conversation slowed as they approached, and went silent altogether when they sat down. Beth blinked, confused by the reaction. Daryl glared at them before digging in.

"What's with them?" Beth murmured.

"Got sticks up their asses, s'what it looks like," Daryl grunted around a mouthful of bacon, loud enough to draw some offended looks from the other side.

Mason held her chin high, but there was no appetite left in her churning stomach. Across from her, Eugene eyed her with concern, understanding. She couldn't stand it. She stabbed her eggs with a fork and began forcing them down.

The other side left after a while, and she relaxed enough to enjoy her friends' chattering and bickering. She leaned her head on her hand and just listened, letting it soothe her…

"Mason?" Someone shook her shoulder.

Her eyes flew open. "Huh?"

"You were fallin' asleep," Beth said.

Heat filled her face. "I was just resting my eyes."

"Please," Daryl said. "Snorin' like a fuckin' buzz saw."

"Fuck off, I was not."

"Perhaps we should delay our plans for the day," Eugene said.

"No, absolutely not. I'm fine. Training will wake me up."

~m~

It did not.

The second time Mason lost her balance mid-spar, Beth and Eugene called timeout.

"Look, we're not gonna learn anythin' when you're not at your best," Beth reasoned. "Eugene and I can spar each other today."

"All things being equal, I would call that a win-win," Eugene agreed. "You can treat it as a pop quiz of sorts."

"I don't know how I feel about you two ganging up on me," Mason muttered, too tired to put up much of an argument.

She sat with her back against the gazebo railing while the two of them squared up. Daryl joined her after a moment. She tossed out a few corrections to Eugene and Beth's forms, but once they were in the swing of it, she glanced at Daryl.

"Can I ask you a question? Bro to bro?"

He snorted quietly. "At your own risk."

"You still don't trust me, do you?" She asked with a shit-eating grin, to let him know she was mostly teasing.

"Nah. You got that look like you ain't ever up to any good."

"Whoa, wait a minute. Is this Daryl… You know, I don't think I ever caught your last name."

"Dixon."

"Is this Daryl Dixon _joking_? Is this what it's like to have God smile down upon you?"

"Stop. Fuckin' think you're funny, but you're not."

Mason laughed. "So go sit somewhere else."

"Nah, I'm comfortable."

"For real though, I mean…you didn't have to come here. To the Kingdom, I mean."

"They're my friends." She didn't think she was imagining the defensive edge to his tone.

"Well, no, yeah, I get that—"

"Mason."

Beth and Eugene paused in their drills as a man and woman strode over. They hesitated outside the gazebo, glaring at Mason.

"What the hell is this?"

_Great._

Mason stood. "Hey, Selene, Donovan. What's the problem?"

"The problem is that you're here," Selene said. "Teaching virtual strangers how to…"

"How to fight? Yes. I am." Normally she might've tried to tame her irritation, but she was tired and just wanted to be left alone.

Selene huffed. "It doesn't bother you at all, does it?"

"Teaching people to defend themselves? Not a smidge."

"Teaching people to _murder_ other people," Donovan said. "That's what you're doing. To run around out there like some stupid, violent animal—"

"Hey."

Eugene angled in front of Mason, eyes sparking dangerously.

Beth flanked Mason on her other side, lips thin with anger.

"You don't know what you're sayin'—"

Selene held up a hand. "Um, I'm sorry, but _you _don't have a say in any of this."

"You ain't got nothin' better to do than talk out your ass, you fuckin' nances?" Daryl said.

But Mason edged around her friends, throwing them a glance she hoped was equal parts firm and grateful. She smiled at Selene and Donovan.

"You know, guys, I'd love to listen to any feedback you'd have for me about what I should and shouldn't be teaching people. Once you spend a few days out there yourself." She cocked her head. "Have you done that? I mean, aside from that time Ezekiel and I rescued you from the bunker."

Donovan scoffed. "We don't need to—"

"No, I want you to tell me exactly how much time you've spent out there, and then exactly how much of that time you've had to spend protecting yourself. Not relying on anyone else, not letting someone else do the heavy lifting. It must be more than I thought, for you to be talking to me like I don't know my ass from a hole in the ground." Her friendly tone went cold.

"You promote _violence_ in the middle of our community," Selene insisted. "Where anyone could see, where _children _can see."

"The whole world is violent. I'm promoting self-defense."

"Do you even have the authority to hold these little lessons? Did you check with Ezekiel first?"

"That is indeed what she did."

Ezekiel strolled into view with Lily and Tanner, regarding everyone firmly before leaning on his scepter.

"What is going on here?"

"Your Majesty, we're sorry, but we have some concerns," Donovan said. "Is it really the best idea, allowing these lessons?"

Ezekiel nodded thoughtfully. "Tell me. You have witnessed the routines I, myself, frequently partake in to maintain my combative abilities. That our loyal and esteemed Knights partake in as well. Have you not? Or have you had your eyes closed for so long?" His tone was light. Mason wasn't fooled by it.

Donovan frowned. "No, I…yeah, of course, I've seen that. But I'm sorry, that's not—"

"You do understand, of course, my Knights have pledged their lives to your welfare and defense, and that _includes _my Champion. They shoulder the weight of great personal risk to ensure you can carry on in this grand life I have built from the ashes of the old world. So pray tell, Donovan. Why is it there is contention now, when it is my Champion alone holding these lessons?"

Selene held her hands out. "Your Majesty, please. It's one thing for the Knights to learn self-defense, but it's something else entirely, teaching complete _strangers _how to _kill _people! It just seems incredibly irresponsible, and I can't get comfortable with that."

She cast a furtive glance at Mason, and it was obvious she was remembering that night at the bunker. Mason's fingers twitched, resisting the urge to hide them. They were clean. There was nothing on them…

"You think I have conducted myself irresponsibly? That I do not understand the gravity of my role as King?"

"No, no, that's not what we're trying to say. This isn't about _you_."

"That is folly," Ezekiel said, voice like flint. "_Everything _that concerns this community concerns me. Rest assured, a great deal of thought went into our current arrangement with our friends in Alexandria. And rest assured, I would not have agreed upon it had I not believed with my whole heart that it was the best path for this community to take.

"Now I am recipient to the trepidations of my people, and I do not intend to dismiss them, so long as you can provide judicious reasoning that does not question the character of my Champion."

Selene and Donovan exchanged a glance before Donovan shook his head.

"We're…we're sorry, your Majesty. This wasn't the right time…"

"Dismiss yourself, Donovan, if you cannot provide it. You as well, Selene. Should you find yourselves a more compelling argument, we may speak later."

Mason didn't realize she was holding her breath until the two of them left. She deflated as she glanced at her audience.

"Thanks, guys. Sorry about that."

"Honey, you don't have a thing to apologize for, okay?" Lily said. "They're the ones that brought their bad auras over here."

Ezekiel stepped forward and laid a hand on her shoulder. "My lady, are you alright?"

"Yeah." Impatiently, she cleared her throat. "I'm fine. I'm sorry you had to step in, is all."

He nodded slowly. "May I parlay with you a moment?"

"Right now?"

"Don't worry, princess," Tanner said, cracking his knuckles. "Lily and I can take over for a while. Get these grunts in shape."

She frowned. "Go easy."

"Softie."

With a reassuring glance at Eugene and Beth, she followed Ezekiel to the theater.

~m~

_Mason hissed a wordless warning and held an arm out to stop the group behind her. _

_They'd made it outside and into the freezing rain. The light from the getaway vans, manned by Jerry and Dray, illuminated the parking lot. Full of walkers, just as it had been when Mason and Ezekiel broke into the bunker. Maybe more. _

_Someone whimpered behind her. She tensed, waiting for the sound to draw the dead's attention, but none of them seemed to notice._

"_You expect us to get through _that_?" one of the men hissed. Donovan, if she remembered correctly. _

"_If you're quick and smart about it, yeah," she replied._

"_You're fucking crazy."_

"_My friends, please," Ezekiel said, quiet but urgent. "I know you have been thrust into alarming and unfamiliar territory, but you must forge through it if you hope to live. Certain death awaits you underground. Onward is the only way."_

_Mason glanced back at the group, jaw tight with displeasure. They'd come here for food, not more people to provide for. But Ezekiel, being Ezekiel, insisted on taking them in. _

_They all carried weapons. A few guns, though Mason wasn't sure they even knew how to use them. She'd already told them not to unless absolutely necessary, but who knew if they'd listen._

_The vans weren't far, but there were a whole lot of walkers between them and the alcove where they sheltered. Jerry or Dray couldn't risk driving through it and damaging the vans. Onward was the only way._

"_We stay in a tight formation," she growled. "No sight-seeing, no stragglers, no stopping to tie your shoelaces. Keep your weapons up and try to keep as quiet as possible. No guns unless it's all you've got left." _

_Everyone eyed her fearfully, but gripped their weapons tighter, readying them. _

"_Kids and elderly in the center." She hesitated. The back was going to be the most dangerous place to be. "Ezekiel, you should take the lead. I'll cover the tail end, make sure no one gets left behind."_

_As she took up position in the back, a young man smiled nervously and held out his hand. _

"_Uh, Justin. Thanks for…you know, getting us out of there."_

_Mason glanced at his hand, then faced forward, sliding into a fighting stance. Awkwardly, he retracted it. _

"_So you've done stuff like this before?" _

_Memories split open in her brain, fresh and stinging. Men emerging from the trees. Gunfire in the dark, never knowing if it was friend or foe that fell by it. How it felt to kneel, grit and stones biting her knees, blood rolling down her body and knowing it had all been spilled for nothing…_

_She flinched. "Shut up and get ready." _

_Ezekiel loped into the parking lot and the group followed haltingly. Mason gritted her teeth, attention straining in a dozen directions at once. It was easy enough for Ezekiel to cut a path ahead; the rain covered his tracks enough that the walkers didn't sense him until he was upon them. Once he drew their attention, however, they converged, hitting the middle and lower half of the group the hardest. With the dead pressing in, nervous whimpers became screams. The outer edge of the group frayed out, weapons swinging haphazardly. The center wanted to hesitate, tripping up the whole operation._

"_Keep moving!" she barked. "Don't stop, just drive them back!"_

_She compensated as much as she could with her fire iron, or by shoving someone forward who refused to move, but it was only her and Ezekiel trying to keep thirty strangers together._

_When a walker slipped past the defensive line, the group recoiled, exposing the center. Mason leapt in to cover them, shouting at Ezekiel to keep going. They weren't going to make it without a competent person leading the way. _

_Rain blinded her as she whirled back and forth, taking out walkers while the group recovered. She was vaguely aware of Justin and a few others lingering around her, covering her and the last of the stragglers. She was glad to see there was at least a bit of fight in some of them._

"_Alright, c'mon, we've gotta keep moving," she hollered over the din, wrapping an arm around the waist of an old man who had fallen to the ground. _

_He shook his head, too cowed to get to his feet. "No, no, I can't." _

"_You can, alright? I've got you." She ran her iron through the skull of an oncoming walker. "But you've gotta help me out. You've gotta move."_

_Thankfully he obeyed and she led the stragglers on, pushing walkers away as they went. Up ahead, the rest of the group reached the vans and piled inside, all except Ezekiel, who turned back to clear the way for Mason. _

_She handed the old man off to him, then spun around for the others. "C'mon!" _

_Three men and a woman stumbled safely past her while she held off the dead. Justin was the last. He paused to kill a walker with his meat cleaver, but the blade caught in its skull. Mason tensed to intervene. _

_The woman reached back for him. "Justin, come on!" _

_He abandoned the cleaver, but it was too late. Before Mason could jump in, another walker fell on him, trapping his arm in its jaws._

_He screamed, kicking it away, and the woman screamed, too. She lunged like she meant to go back for him._

"_No!" Mason wrapped both arms around the woman, yanking her to a halt. "You can't. They're converging." _

_Justin reached out, sobbing. "Selene—" He cut off with a cry as another walker clamped down on his shoulder. _

_The woman struggled in Mason's arms. "Please, please, let me go, you have to let me help him—"_

"_You can't help him!" The dead descended like the tide coming in, cutting them off. _

_Someone else tried to dart past her—Donovan, she realized. Snarling, Mason swung Selene behind her and slammed shoulder-first into him, throwing him to the ground._

"_You. Can't." _

_As she spoke, the walkers tore Justin down, burying him. Selene wailed. Donovan eyed Mason with pure hate as he lurched to his feet._

"_Jackass! Fucking rat, I could've _saved him_!" _

_He drew his arm back, but she was quicker. She punched him once to knock him off balance, twice to knock him back to the ground. She loomed over him, limbs burning with adrenaline, with bloodlust. In her head, gunfire, whistling, darkness…_

"_Mason, cease this!" _

_Ezekiel grabbed her arm. She wheeled on him, letting out a guttural snarl. His eyes widened but he didn't balk. _

"_Mason. We must go. Now." _

_That tiny part of her that clung to logic, that clung to _now_, took the reins. She nodded wordlessly, holding back the dead while Ezekiel helped Donovan and Selene into a van. Ezekiel only hopped in himself when Mason did._

_The silence inside was so loud it hurt. Mason huddled as far away from the others as she could, which they seemed content with. She was soaked to the bone in rain, in blood. Her fingers trembled so she hid them in her lap._

_The chaos in her head wound on and on, unending._

~m~

"Remember that night at the bunker?"

Mason and Ezekiel sat on the stage, backs pressed together while they passed each other berries. Shiva sprawled next to them; every once in a while, Mason reached out to scratch behind her ears.

"Of course, my lady," Ezekiel replied.

Renee's uncle had left behind a map in his mountain house, of all the locations nearby that might be raided for food, weapons and other supplies. The bunker in Culpeper was one of a dozen.

The war was already over when they decided to check it out. With nearly all of their people wiped out and half their possessions taken, they were in desperate need of supplies, namely food. The bunker seemed like the best place to start. It had been singled out as a stronghold to house people D.C. labeled "important", but with how chaotic everything was before the world fell to pieces, there was a good chance there hadn't been enough time.

They gambled on that chance, and found thirty or so people inside who had recently run out of food. Looming starvation, on top of three years spent confined underground, had driven some of them to attack the rest.

Mason killed the dangerous ones that night, and the others hadn't understood. That she'd just come out of a war, somehow alive on the other side and wondering if that was even a blessing. That she'd killed many men at that point, so many she'd lost count. That it was safer not to take chances with their continued existence.

That maybe fear had made her a monster, that maybe she was afraid _all the time_, but she was trying, she was trying, she was trying…

She closed her eyes. The last blackberry she ate seemed lodged in her throat, too sweet. Rotten…

"Well, I…I'm thinking maybe Selene and Donovan had a point. Sort of. Also, I'm apologizing for snarling at you that night, because it's just now occurring to me that I might not have before."

She felt him turn to look at her, but she couldn't do the same.

"Firstly, my lady, I'm used to receiving no apology for getting snarled at. Secondly, you _know _Selene and Donovan's piss fit today was prejudice and nothing more. Honestly, it's played at this point. I'm…well, I'm actually thinking of calling a summit."

"What about…?"

"I'm considering, and have been considering for some time…" He sighed. The medieval accent was completely gone now, and that was how she knew he was more anxious than he let on. "Maybe they should _all _be required to learn some fighting skills."

She went so still she could track her pulse as it rippled through her body.

"Fighting," she repeated. "You want them to fight."

"Not for that purpose." Decisive. Disapproving. "You know I can't consider that. But for patrol shifts, supply runs… They pull their own weight within the walls, and I am grateful for that, however I am not unaware of the strain it puts on you, the Misfits, or the other Knights. I cannot allow them to know about the Saviors. I haven't changed my mind about that. But the time has come, I believe, for them to learn."

Mason nodded slowly. "I mean…yeah, that's probably a good idea. But where did this come from?"

He elbowed her lightly. "From your eyes, and the shadows beneath them. From half-empty cabinets that could be full. From my own belief in these people, and this place, and what it could be."

_What could it be, now? _she wanted to ask, but didn't. Because she loved and respected Ezekiel, and more importantly, she understood. The decision, what it cost, she understood.

They'd fought side by side in that war. Witnessed the same horrors. Weathered the same losses. And she understood intimately the weight, not just of grief, but of _guilt _that he carried with him. Everyone now who shared the Lie understood that.

She'd known what the cost would be. She'd known.

But if Ezekiel told her they would go to war tomorrow, she didn't think she'd feel the right kind of fear.

She wasn't sure when the fire had rekindled itself in her.

She wasn't sure when she'd started fearing the quiet more than the noise.

But it wasn't her call, and for good reason. So she kept this to herself and instead said, "Well. They probably won't be thrilled by the idea, but they can suck it up. It'll be good for them."

Ezekiel's eyes twinkled. "Indeed, that was my thinking, Dame Reynolds."

She made a face. "You know I don't like that one."

"Dame…Champion?"

"Is that even the correct, like, wordage?"

"Considering we stand at the threshold of this fair planet's rebirth…I think we can probably just make some shit up."

She laughed and handed him another blackberry.

~m~

At Ezekiel's insistence, which became an order the more she argued with him, Mason managed to nab a few hours of sleep. She didn't wake up feeling rested exactly, but a little less like death.

Tanner had taken Beth and Eugene out for a cool-down run, so Mason put herself to work in the garden harvesting grass for bales. Dave joined her after a while, raising an eyebrow at her new tool.

"Ooh. You finally found a replacement."

Mason grinned, propping up her scythe. "Last night, when Jerry and I were out. Saw it in a pawn shop."

"It's a nice one."

"Hell yeah, it is." She paused to wipe the sweat from her forehead and hone the blade with a field stone. "If you want, you can weed around the veggies for me. Tomatoes got that five o'clock shadow going on."

"Sure thing, boss."

The sun was low in the sky when Beth hailed her, still dressed in her workout clothes. Mason straightened.

"How'd it go? Do I need to kick Tanner's ass?"

"No, it was cool. He said you're goin' easy on us."

Mason snorted. "He just can't go a day without stirring the shit."

"I can see that." Beth smiled, then nodded to the banks of cut grass. "You need some help?"

"Nah, I'm almost done. This is just the portion that's going to our livestock. Be a hell of a lot easier with a lawnmower, but gasoline's a precious commodity. Also, it wouldn't look as badass." She twirled the scythe and immediately regretted it. Her muscles were sore as fuck.

"If this is just for the livestock, where's the rest of it goin'?" Beth looked genuinely curious; all those years growing up on a farm shining through, Mason supposed.

"We spread it over the garden, leave it over the fall and winter, and it conditions the soil. Makes it softer and healthier. It's how we doubled our yield last year."

Beth's eyes lit up. "Like compostin'."

"Yeah, except grass is everywhere, so you can cover a much larger area. Quicker, too." She wasn't sure why Beth looked so excited all of a sudden.

"That's how we do it…"

"What?"

"Our…our garden hasn't been doin' too well," Beth explained. "That's another reason we needed that food so badly. But if this method works so well for you guys, maybe it'll work for us, too!"

"Oh. Yeah, of course. When we head back to Alexandria, I can bring this bad boy." She patted the handle of the scythe. "Offer my excellent lawn mowing services."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Beth threw her arms around Mason, and the embrace left her staggered. They'd been keeping an unspoken minimum-contact rule outside of training. But Beth's warmth, her exuberance, knocked Mason off guard. She hugged Beth back, careful to hold the scythe at a harmless distance.

"Th—that's okay." She cleared her throat and pulled back first, and only then did she realize their company had grown.

Tanner and Eugene picked their way through the garden toward them. In the brief second when her eyes met Eugene's, Mason struggled to define the emotion there. But then he glanced away, busying himself with freeing his hair from his hair tie.

She took another step away from Beth, her face hot.

"What's up, ding-dongs," Tanner greeted them. "You looked a little lost without me."

"Yeah, Tan, that's just the relief of not having to deal with a complete narcissist," Mason muttered. Her eyes kept flicking to Eugene, wishing he would look at her. Terrified that he would.

"Aw, thank you." Tanner poked her in the ribs and she elbowed him back.

"You know what I miss?" Dave sighed theatrically. "Ding Dongs."

"Fuck you, bro, why'd you have to bring those up?"

"_You _brought them up!"

"I miss those little powdered donuts," Beth offered.

"_What_? Those aren't even in the same _league _as Ding Dongs."

While they argued, Mason sidled up to Eugene. "Hey."

"Evening, Miss Champion. You aren't weighing in on the debate?" His voice was light, but she thought he seemed…embarrassed or something.

"Please. Everyone knows it's Sno Balls all the way."

He breathed out what she thought was a laugh. "Well, you are not incorrect there."

"Yeah. You ever cut it open and stuff it full of Doritos? Delicious."

He finally looked at her, screwing up his face in disgust.

"Miss Reynolds, what in the absolute fuck."

She laughed. "Okay, to be fair, I _was_ stoned at the time. But I still stand by it sober. If I can scrounge up the ingredients, I'll make it for you."

"Well…I am quaking."

"With anticipation?"

"Sure."

"Hey, so, um. I'm sorry. About today."

He frowned. "Seeing as I cannot think up a single thing you'd have to apologize for, you will have to forgive my bewilderment."

"Well…being so tired, for one thing, and then…you know. All that _other_ drama." She changed the subject before he could reply. "Tomorrow we'll have an easy day. You guys can help me here in the garden. And then maybe later I'll show you how to use this thing."

He was silent for a moment, warring with whatever he wanted to say next. In the end, he sighed and raised an eyebrow at the scythe.

"Cards on the table, miss, I am not certain I am formidable enough to wield such an instrument."

She snorted. "_Formidable. _It's farm equipment. I mean, I will admit it does look pretty badass, but…"

"Badass is an understatement. You look like a reaper with that thing."

He blinked and she blinked back and something passed between them that stood the hair up on her arms. Something like déjà vu, like a dream half-remembered…

_(you)_

_(you are)_

_(you are the Reaper, May)_

"Um." She shook her head. _What the fuck was that? _"Have you…have you eaten?"

"Uh." He shook his head, too. "N—no. Not yet."

"Did someone say dinner?" Dave hollered.

"Literally no one did," Mason replied.

"Because I'm hungry as fuck!"

So the five of them made for the dining hall. Mason listened quietly while their debate continued, still a little unsteady from…whatever the fuck that was back there.

_You're just tired, _she reasoned. _You and Eugene both._

The hall was crowded again, but at least she was already surrounded by friends. Lily and Renee were already there and had saved a table for them. Daryl, too, joined after a while. Dinner was warm and loud, and refreshed her more than sleep had.

~m~

She awoke that night from a dream that left her weary.

Running. Through the forest, through the desert, through the mountains. Through snow and rain, heat and fire. The scenery rotated constantly. Under the sun, she was painted in blood. Under the moon, she was painted in a rainbow of neon.

Forest, desert, mountain. Snow, rain, heat, fire.

Sun and moon and sun and moon and sun and moon.

On and on like this, until she felt she might collapse. But she had to keep going. Had to—

_(break the cycle)_

—keep moving. Because…

Because home was out there somewhere. Because someday, she wanted to stop. Rest. Stay.

She scowled when she finally tumbled out of sleep. The Misfits were cuddled around her like always. Dave's head on her stomach, and Tanner's head on Dave's. Lily's arm draped over Mason's leg, the other splayed over Tanner's face.

Ava was curled up on the couch with Renee. Generally she enjoyed sleeping in her own bed, a luxury she'd become obsessed with after her treacherous cross-country journey with Mason. But sometimes, if she'd had a nightmare or simply missed her family, she would sneak out and snuggle with them.

Quietly, Mason disentangled herself and tiptoed to the kitchen, letting the light from the moon guide her.

She nearly shit herself when she spotted the unexpected silhouette sitting at the table, but then it spoke.

"Mason?"

"_Beth_?" She laid a hand on her heart. "Fuck, I thought you were my sleep paralysis demon finally come to get me."

"Nope. Just a regular demon."

Mason snorted and trudged to the fridge. "You're a fucking sweetheart, you couldn't be a demon if you tried, and _Charlie ate the last of my cobbler_."

"What kind?"

"Chocolate strawberry."

"Uh oh."

She closed the fridge with a flat expression. "Her ass is grass."

"How'd you even know it was Charlie?"

"Because I know those thieving punks better than the layout of my own house. Ashlee steals your socks, Tanner steals your shades, Dave steals your coffee. And Charlie steals your fucking chocolate strawberry cobbler even though you threatened her with murder the last time."

Beth giggled. "That sounds like me and Maggie. She'd steal my art supplies all the time and then never give 'em back, so I always had to go rootin' around in her room. One time she pissed me off so bad, I ate the center out of a loaf of bread she baked, but I arranged it so that she couldn't tell until she cut into it. That was also the night she was tryin' to impress her date with her cookin' skills. Her face was pretty priceless."

Mason's eyes widened. "Oh my god, you are a demon."

"Told you."

She sat at the table across from Beth. Only one side of her face was visible, tinged in moonlight.

"So what are you doing up?"

"It's just hard for me to sleep lately. Like normal, I mean. Between the Wolves and shifts in the infirmary, I've…kinda gotten caught up in a weird schedule."

"Yeah, I feel that." Mason rubbed her eyes with her fists.

"What happened, with those people today? Tanner said it was because…some of the people here don't understand you. What does that mean?"

For a second, all Mason could feel was intense gratitude toward Tanner for not revealing the whole truth of it.

When she met Beth's gaze, there in the half-lit kitchen… Suddenly, she was on that bus again, cold and raw.

"You remember what I was like, when we first met."

Beth nodded.

"It means that, until fairly recently, I was even more lost than I was then."

It was silent for a moment while Beth let that sink in. Then she reached across the table for Mason's hand.

"What happened to you, after you left?"

Mason flinched, but didn't pull away. She squeezed Beth's hand, trying to draw strength from its familiar warmth.

"I just…couldn't find my way."

"But you've found it now." Beth sounded so sure, it wasn't even a question. When Mason didn't respond, Beth persisted. "You _have_. You're not who you were before. You can come back."

She wanted to believe her. She wanted to so badly.

Gently, Beth shook her hand. "Let's go for a walk."

"A walk?"

"Just around the neighborhood for a while. We both can't sleep. We may as well make the best of it. You can tell me more about your thievin' Misfits."

Even in the dark, Beth's eyes gleamed like sunlight. Mason smiled a little and let Beth pull her to her feet.

"Okay, did I ever tell you about the time we hustled these asshole losers down at a pool hall and ended up getting chased?"

"Uh, no."

"Well, firstly, let me just establish that it was _Tanner's _idea, no matter what he tries to say about it being mine…"

In the end, another night of very little sleep, but Mason didn't feel a second of it was wasted.

**A/N: So I'm really happy there was an opportunity for more Jerry and Ezekiel in this chapter. I adore those dudes. But, yeah, glad I was able to fit in a little more fluff because this upcoming chapter is going to be...a ride. I'm honestly super excited (and a little bit nervous) for it and I hope you all will enjoy it. Anyway, thanks so much for reading and until next time! xoxo**


	14. Cookie Thumper!

**A/N: Hello, guys! So first off, don't be fooled by the little bit at the beginning where it's sort of chill—the majority of this chapter is action. The gore and violence in this chapter I think is pretty on par for the show, but I'll just warn you anyway that...it gets gory and violent. I honestly had so much fun writing it, though, and as such, the chapter song is a fun one: "Cookie Thumper!" by Die Antwoord. It's maybe not for everyone, but it's a fucking romp and even though it's technically about...well, sex, I thought the energy fit these scenes perfectly lol. Shout out to dampish for introducing me to it****—you're awesome and I hope you're doing well, friend. As always, thank you guys so much for reading and reviewing, it always makes me so happy! Hope you enjoy!  
**

14\. Cookie Thumper!

They kept Naomi in the dark about the finer points. It was easy enough. A part of her had refused to leave the dark since Arkansas.

"You won't have to kill anyone," Alpha told her.

"But you will," she replied flatly.

"Not if your plan works. And it will. It's a gorgeous plan." This was only a half-lie. The plan really was great. It was just that Alpha wasn't intending to spare many lives with it.

Nick, too, swallowed her misinformation. He recognized Alpha's true intentions as far as killing people, but like Naomi, had no idea the Kingdom would be involved.

They were so easy sometimes.

The Wolves had become so skilled at reconnaissance, it was effortless to calculate the morning of execution. Alpha woke early on the day, buzzing with energy. Everyone involved was up and waiting for her, two groups and Naomi, who would work alone. Everyone with their dead and their weapons, Naomi and her poison arrows. Nick had volunteered to go with her; he'd gotten quite good at wielding the bow with his prosthetic. But Murph was at the crux of some very intriguing research, so Alpha ordered him to stay behind and help.

One less person to worry about keeping from the truth.

"Timing is everything," she reminded them. "We go together until I give the signal."

They all ducked their heads low.

"Yes, Alpha."

~m~

_It's too early for this shit, _Mason thought, nervously sipping at her tea. She was leaning with her shoes on the edge of the table, balancing her chair on its back legs. One foot tapped incessantly.

Daryl, sitting on her left, rolled his eyes. "Man, you best cut that out."

She looked him dead in the eye and tapped her foot louder.

In a move so quick she couldn't prepare for it, he kicked the chair out from under her, and she went tumbling to the floor right as the rest of the council walked in.

She blinked, mortified, and tried to think of something cool to say.

"Uh. Salutations, my dudes."

_Salutations_?She was hanging out with Eugene too much.

"Well," Rick said, eyes twinkling. "I guess we should get this meeting started, since some of us are just falling out of their chairs with excitement about it."

Laughter rippled through the group. Maggie in particular seemed thoroughly entertained. Morgan helped Mason back up into her chair, offering to get her a towel when he realized she was drenched in tea.

"Nah, I'm good," she mumbled. "But if you see my dignity anywhere, I'd like that back, please."

The meeting was fairly short, but it felt long. Aside from Michonne, who had taken Heath on a run for essentials they were low on, the whole council was there—Rick, Daryl, Glenn, Carol, Abraham, Maggie, Sasha and Morgan. Even without her majestic kick-off, she knew she would've felt horribly out of place, but she sat and listened and quieted the part of her that wished Beth and Eugene were there.

Things had been quiet for a while now, no Wolf spottings, and though no one was eager to believe the attacks were over, they were keen to take advantage of the respite.

"Your people said they saw these Wolves in a town not far from here," Rick said.

Mason leaned back. "You want to go there."

"If that's where they're holing up, I think we have to. Hit them before they hit us."

"We could've left them reeling from the last time they attacked," Sasha said. "Maybe that's why they haven't made a try for it again."

"Then they'd be weak. Perfect time to attack," Carol agreed.

Mason bit her lip. "When were you planning to do this?"

"Soon," Rick said. "Abraham's almost ready to leave the infirmary permanently, Denise is going to take the splint off Aaron's arm any day now. Everyone's had a chance to breathe and recover, thanks to you and your people. Eugene's been building back our store of ammo. We have to do this while we're on the upswing."

It made sense. Mason knew it did. She couldn't help feeling reluctant to encourage them.

Rick didn't fail to notice. He tipped his head. "You feel differently?"

"Well…" She glanced nervously at the faces around her. It was disconcerting, remembering that everyone at the table knew about the Saviors. Or at least part of the story.

"I just know what it's like to think you have the upper hand going in," she confessed. "I know what it's like to be wrong about that."

Rick's resolve never wavered, but his eyes softened all the same. "That's why we need to be sure before we do anything. We were hoping you and Ezekiel might be willing to lend your Knights for that purpose."

"For recon first?"

"We've been afforded the luxury of sleuthing this place out," Abraham said. "But that prospect might change lanes without signaling, given these pricks' penance for…well, prickery. Better to leave them ass-up in the median this time."

"It's not up to me," Mason said. "I'd have to visit Ezekiel first."

"You and I can leave this evening once everyone's back," Rick said. "In the meantime, we need to get this place prepped, just in case. Noah's overseeing a crew to fortify the watch posts but we'll need to make a run for more supplies."

"Now?" Glenn asked. "Michonne's gone, the Misfits'll be trading shifts today…"

"The Wolves haven't gone this long without attacking since they started. We've already waited longer than I'm comfortable with. We can't keep sitting around, wondering if today's the day, we have to take control. Whoever goes out, we'll keep in touch through walkies, call them back if we need them."

When the meeting ended, Mason crumpled up her empty cup and prepared to chuck it at Daryl's head. Rick cleared his throat before she got the chance.

"Rick. Hey." She hid the cup behind her back. "Something else you need?"

He smiled a little. "I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay. I mean, all things considered."

The question blindsided her, but she tried not to show it. "Oh. Yeah. Great. I'm…living the dream, you know?" She gave him two thumbs up and immediately began to sweat.

_This isn't a 90's sitcom, dumbass._

He nodded. "Oh, yeah. We all are. Look, I know I've said it before, but thank you. For everything. I know it hasn't been the easiest arrangement for you."

"No one has it easy these days."

"No. But it's important to me that you know how much I appreciate all you're doing here. And that you know you're welcome here anytime, even after this."

He laid a hand on her shoulder. Something lodged in her throat and made it hard to reply, so she just nodded.

"There _is_ going to be an after this, Mason. I get why you're worried, but we've dealt with people like this before. It always worked out in the end, even when it seemed like it wouldn't."

She remembered nurturing that kind of optimism. It hurt hearing it in his voice.

_Except this is going to be different._

"It will work out," she agreed. "Because I won't let it end any other way."

"No, _we _won't."

In his gentle correction, in his voice…she thought she heard respect. She couldn't decide if this filled her with happiness or embarrassment.

Rick dismissed her, reminding her to be ready to leave around six or so. She joined Beth and Eugene in the garden, offering a half-assed explanation for her wet clothes before launching into a lesson on how to wield the scythe.

She had them spend a good hour cutting grass, grinning while they lamented how much of a workout it truly was.

"Pretty clever."

Mason turned, unsurprised to see Tobin. He'd observed quite a few of their previous training sessions.

"Clever?"

"You get them to exercise _and _you get them to cut your grass for you. Ingenious."

"Just wait till you see how I get them to clean my gutters."

Tobin chuckled. "Well, I hate to interrupt, but Noah was hoping you three could help with the fortification. Eric's run to get more pallets and sheet metal, but we still have enough here to get started."

"Yeah, of course."

"And I was hoping to talk to you. About maybe getting in on some of those lessons."

Mason blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah, I…I know how to handle myself alright but only in the most basic situations. With the Wolves how they are, it's probably best if I push myself a little more."

The thought of having another student made her a little self-conscious, but he was right. A baseline knowledge of combat only got you so far. Plus…she'd sort of been slacking lately on the whole "keep-her-distance-from-Eugene-and-Beth" thing. Having another person there would make that easier, and though she didn't know him well, Tobin seemed like a nice guy.

"Okay," she said. "We can start tomorrow then, if that works for you."

Noah waited for them at the southern watch post, delegating jobs to a small crowd. A little ways off, Rick stood with his own group where the cars were parked.

"Hey," Noah said. "Thanks for this, we can really use the extra hands. Your Misfits were helping out but they had to switch shifts."

"Well, when Lily and Dave get here, we can put them to work, too," Mason said. From the corner of her eye, she saw Rick pull a walkie talkie from his belt and speak into it.

"Sounds good," Noah said. "For now, you, Beth and Eugene can join Tara and Gabriel's group. They're—"

A shout cut him off. Mason jumped, heart bursting into a sprint when she spotted Rick running toward them. The group he'd been talking with scattered, grabbing weapons, piling into cars…

"Tara, grab the gun bag, you're coming with us!"

"What's going on?" Tara demanded, already reaching for her gun and jogging toward the armory.

"Charlie got me on the walkie, she said they were ambushed halfway to the Kingdom."

Fear spiked a cold talon through Mason's chest. She could barely move her lips to form the words.

"Are they alright?"

"They're alright. They're alive. They're trapped in their car right now."

"The Wolves?"

Rick nodded. "I'm taking a group to get them. Carol, Glenn, Morgan, and Rosita."

"And me," Mason growled. Beth and Eugene stepped up on either side of her, but she was only dimly aware of this. Her heart was pushing the blood too quickly through her veins.

Rick held a hand out. "I can't take everyone, I can't leave this place unprotected."

"_You can't stop me from going_!"

"Mason." He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "I'm taking fighters with me. I need to know there's enough left here to protect this place. I promise you, I _promise you_, we're going to get them out."

"Let me lead the group then. They're my people, they're _my _responsibility—"

"But _I'm _the one that asked them to come here. After all they've done for my people, my _family_…it has to be me. I'm not sending someone else out in my place."

She strained forward on the balls of her feet, shaking. That was Charlie out there, that was Dray and Ashlee.

"Miss Champion, Lily and Dave are on their way here as we speak," Eugene said. "They will be crossing paths with this ambush. They can lend additional assistance."

Rick gave him a grateful nod. Mason ground her teeth, blinking back tears.

"Mason, you know how to fight, you know how to protect your community," Rick said. "I _need _you to stay. I'm trusting you with this place. Do you trust me?"

She wanted to argue, but each second that slipped by was a knife dragging itself along her nerves. Shutting her eyes tight, she nodded.

Rick handed her the walkie talkie and hurried for the cars, rallying his group. Tara returned a moment later with the guns. Mason watched numbly as they sped away and Gabriel shut the gate behind them.

"Hey." Beth brushed a strand of hair out of Mason's face. "It's okay. They're gonna help them. It's gonna be alright."

"Beth is correct," Eugene said. "Rick knows what he's doing."

Mason nodded again, quickly. She didn't want them to comfort her. "We…" She stopped to clear her throat. "We need to keep working, but everyone needs a weapon on them. We need to be ready in case they need backup. Let everyone know, Beth, okay?"

Everyone resumed their work, more subdued than before. Mason tried to concentrate, but everything had happened so suddenly, spun her thoughts into a whirlwind, and she couldn't seem to slow them.

Why target the Misfits on the road? There were only three of them, easy to kill or take hostage. If they did intend to take them hostage, would they stay and fight when Rick showed up? What if that was what they wanted? What if Rick was walking into a trap?

_You should've gone with them._

Mason touched the walkie on her belt and glanced at the gate. She still could…

"Hey." Eugene eyed her shrewdly. "We need you here."

"It could be a trap, Eugene."

"I believe Rick is well aware of that possibility. We have gotten out of stickier situations with far less warning."

"He should've just let me fucking go."

He squinted, like he was trying to think of how to word something. "Mason. You are second-in-command at the Kingdom, am I correct?"

"Well, I kind of share that position with Jerry…" What the fuck was he getting at? She couldn't think of anything but what might be happening to her family, her friends…

"But you are entirely capable of taking charge when necessity demands it. Rick saw that."

"That's bullshit. He left Maggie and Sasha here, too, and they're both more than capable—"

"And both currently pregnant."

"Yeah? What about Daryl? _He's _not pregnant."

"Well, I ain't pissed on one of them little sticks yet, but I'm pretty sure I ain't."

Beth had returned, Daryl in tow. Mason threw one last glare at Eugene before addressing Beth.

"Everyone know what's going on?"

"They do. Everyone's armed. There's…not enough ammo for everyone to carry a full clip yet, and Rick's group took a good portion of the guns with them. Maggie and Sasha have the most ammo with a half mag each."

Mason's fingers brushed the gun at her belt. She only had three rounds herself.

"And what about cars? Are they ready in case we need to—"

The crackle of a walkie spiked her with adrenaline, and she reached for hers before realizing it was coming from the one hooked on Daryl's vest.

"Daryl—"

Mason recognized Eric's voice, tinny in the static, and all she could think was, _What now?_

Daryl held the button down and replied, "Yeah, I'm here."

"I—I need help. I'm out here at off-sight construction and…there's walkers everywhere. They came out of nowhere and…I think I'm bit. Or scratched. I don't know, I'm bleeding and the walkers…"

Mason went cold. She thought of Eric that night in the infirmary, joking around with him and Aaron…

Daryl let out a strangled grunt and made a beeline for the cars. Mason, Beth and Eugene followed.

"Where?" Daryl demanded. "Where were you bit?"

"My…my ankle. I've got it tied off to slow the blood flow, but it's swelling up and…" He breathed shakily, obviously fighting tears. "I'm hiding in a bulldozer. I can't run."

"I'm comin' to get you."

"No, I'll go," Beth said, face twisting into a formidable scowl when the three of them shot her objecting looks. "I have to! He needs someone who can amputate his foot and we can't send Denise. So I'm goin'."

Mason tried to protest. "No—"

"Y'ain't goin' alone, you idiot," Daryl snapped.

And tried to protest again. "You—"

"Then come with me. But we have to _go_."

But neither of them would listen. Beth strode to a car and hopped in, glaring expectantly at him. Mason searched desperately for some way to argue her back. But she knew Beth was right. Eric would likely die without her, and there was no way in hell she was going alone.

Daryl hopped into the passenger seat. Mason caught Beth's door before she could close it and leaned in with the most menacing look she could manage, near tears as she was.

"You both are going to be _super fucking careful_," she ordered. "Or I'm kicking your asses all the way to Saturn."

Daryl saluted her. Beth gave her a hard smile. Reluctantly, Mason stepped aside to let them pass.

Eugene closed the gate behind them, then turned to Mason. There was fear in his eyes, too, but when he reached out and took her hand, he felt steady and warm.

"Daryl won't let anything happen to her," he murmured.

"I know." She sighed shakily. "If Rick needs backup, we're down two people."

"But we're still here. At the risk of sounding full of myself, I believe I am now thoroughly capable of Daviding any Goliath the universe throws at me, thanks to your fine tutelage."

Despite everything, he got her to smile. A small one, but miraculous nonetheless. She let him lead her back in the direction of Noah's crews. Her mind continued chasing its tail, calculating Rick's numbers, the numbers they still had left here…

She stopped cold.

They were down two viable fighters to send Rick's way, it was true. But…

They were down eleven fighters to defend Alexandria.

Defend Alexandria.

"Mason?" Eugene squeezed her hand. "What is it?"

"How many people are left?" Her voice came from far away.

"What?"

"_How many people are left_?"

He blinked slowly. Understanding chilled the blue in his eyes. Mason felt frozen for one brief, painful, unending moment.

But she forced her lips to move, and the rest of her body followed.

"We need to get everyone together, _now_. We can't be separated."

Eugene nodded. "It may be best to gather everyone in the armory. That way—"

Something shattered against the left side of his face in an explosion of glass and flames.

Someone screamed. Mason thought maybe it was her.

She lunged, throwing Eugene to the ground as a second Molotov cocktail sailed over them. She buried her weight against him, trying to smother the flames, one hand reaching for her shield. She got it up in time to block a third cocktail.

From all around, there came the sound of more glass shattering, and screams. A few gunshots peppered the air. One of the watch posts caught fire, and then a second.

Wolves slathered in walker blood shimmied over the walls, pausing on support ballasts to take aim with cocktails, with bows and arrows. There were ten of them, fifteen of them, twenty… With each one, the tempo of her thoughts jumped, weighing options, weighing risks.

They had to fall back. They had to fall back to a safe place, together. It was the only way they were going to be able to survive, let alone fight.

"Eugene!" Tears blinded her as she rolled him over. Blood trickled down the left side of his face, and beneath that the skin was seared angry red. The left eye refused to open when he looked at her.

But he was conscious. He was alive. Relief made her knees weak.

"Eugene, we have to move," she said. "Can you move? Can you get up?"

"I…" He trailed off but nodded dizzily.

She hopped off him, shield up. Flames licked its surface and dripped to the ground, and she realized belatedly that the heat had scorched her knuckles.

A nearby archer took aim at Eugene, who was still crouched on the ground, holding his bleeding head. Mason jumped between them, knocking the arrow aside. She snarled and pointed at the archer, as if to mark him, then whirled to help Eugene to his feet.

"C'mon, Eugene." She clutched his waist to support him and grunted at his weight. "I thought you could David any Goliath the universe threw at you."

"I didn't…know…" He swayed. "Didn't know the universe would be throwing bombs…"

She huffed a laugh.

A couple yards away, Noah fled from a volley of arrows. His limp slowed him but somehow he managed to avoid each one. She was about to hail him when a roaring caught her attention.

She paused, turning back to the gate, where the roar was coming from. Coming closer. Closer.

A semi barreled through the drive, swatting the gate to the side like it was nothing. It veered sideways, smashing the cab into the wall, which was the only thing that stopped it skidding deeper into the community. The box trailer wobbled precariously before settling with a groan.

The door to the trailer opened from the inside, and a woman doused in walker blood hopped out, followed by a flood of about thirty dead.

There was something off about the walkers, although Mason couldn't immediately tell what and she didn't stick around to figure it out.

She tugged Eugene forward. He was regaining a bit of his stability, but she didn't trust he was able to make it to the infirmary on his own.

"Mason!"

Tobin ran to them, taking up position on Eugene's other side.

"I've got him," he said. "Cover me, huh?"

She nodded, though it surprised her how hard it was to let Eugene go; the fear caught her off guard with its ferocity.

Arrows fell like rain around them. She knocked a few to the side with her shield, which continued to burn. It was actually pretty damn uncomfortable, but she didn't stop to put it out.

As she moved, she tried to keep track of the Alexandrians scattered around her. None of them were trying to fight, but none of them were fleeing in the same direction, either. The armory might've been an option before, but if people were injured…

"The infirmary!" she cried. "Get to the infirmary, all of you!"

Thankfully, some of them heard her. Shouts rang out as they passed the message along to those who hadn't.

On her left, Gabriel collapsed to the ground. She thought at first he'd been hit by an arrow before she realized it was a knife sticking out of his thigh, and that the hulking figure a few yards away must have thrown it.

The Wolves were closing in.

_Like the walkers are on Gabriel. Move your ass._

She darted for him, freeing her iron from the sling on her back. She knocked one walker away with her shield and slashed the stomach of another in the same movement.

Its skin tore easily, and its guts spilled out.

Except…

The guts moved. They hissed as they fell at her feet, wriggling, slithering, and she realized…

Snakes. Fucking snakes. They were fucking snakes _they were fucking snakes._

She stumbled back with a gasp, giving the walker a chance to fall on her. Its teeth clacked inches from her nose. Its skin slid and distorted beneath her fingertips; she couldn't get a good grip on it. And she realized that it wasn't just the walker's stomach that was filled with snakes. Beneath the thin, rotting membrane of its arms and chest, ropes of foreign muscle squirmed.

It pressed closer. The patchwork skin—crisscrossed with stitches where the Wolves had sewn in their fucked up surprise—broke bit by bit as she struggled to brace it. From several directions but close enough to raise goosebumps, the telltale sound of rattlesnakes.

As the walker's head hung over hers, its maw opened and a gore-slick snake glided out.

Mason screamed and threw the walker to the side, regardless of the flesh which burst apart in a shower of serpents. It took her two tries to successfully scramble to her feet. A few of the snakes struck at her. She dodged all of them and raced to Gabriel's side, tucking an arm around his waist to pull him up.

He hissed in pain, clutching at the knife in his thigh, but she smacked his hand away.

"You can't, you'll bleed out." Her voice came out sharper than she intended, still shook by the walker's hideous cargo.

She let Gabriel set the pace as they limped forward. She could see the infirmary now; two Alexandrians were carrying someone inside. Tyreese, she realized. In the back of her mind, she thought, _Another fighter down._

"Mason." Gabriel slowed and pointed to a house on their left. "Wait."

Maggie stood on the porch, trying to aim at the archers in between shooting down walkers. Two figures crept up the alley toward her. She hadn't noticed them.

"Maggie!" Mason shouted. "Behind you!"

She turned as the first Wolf leapt over the porch railing, wielding a large hunting knife. Mason raised her gun and downed him in one shot. His body collapsed halfway on top of Maggie, sending her to the floor. The second Wolf vaulted onto the porch, giving her no time to readjust her aim as he swiped at her with a hatchet. He was quicker than the first guy; Mason didn't want to risk shooting at him when he was so close to Maggie.

"_Fuck_," Mason hissed, gently lowering Gabriel to the ground. "Sorry, padre. Be right back."

She sprinted the distance, shield up, and didn't pause before barreling into the Wolf. They crashed against the side of the house; the impact jarred Mason enough that she tumbled back on her ass, shoulder singing with pain.

Maggie shot the Wolf before he could recover.

"Mason—"

"Maggie, where's your baby? We're all gathering in the infirmary."

"I can't take her through that. I can't risk it."

"I'll cover you."

"You can't be everywhere at once." Her wide eyes flicked to the chaos behind Mason.

She was right, she was right, Mason knew it, but her nerves needled with frustration all the same. How was she going to protect everyone?

"You got more weapons than just that gun?"

Maggie picked up the Wolves' knife and hatchet. "I do."

"Is there a place you can hole up inside?"

She nodded. "I'll be okay, Mason. Go."

There was nothing left to say and no time for it. Mason hurried back to Gabriel, and was about to scoop him back into her grip, when she spotted Eugene and Tobin up ahead. Three walkers had intercepted them, and Mason thought they probably wouldn't have had much trouble dispatching them under normal circumstances.

But the walkers were leaking snakes, throwing Eugene and Tobin off balance.

Mason glanced apologetically at Gabriel. He waved her away. "Do what you have to."

She shot one of the walkers as she ran, and made it over to them in time to spear another walker crouched over Eugene. He kicked his legs, propelling himself out of the writhing mass of snakes. Her eyes darted over him; he didn't seem to have been bitten, by serpent or walker.

"Snakes," he gasped. "Goddamn snakes."

"Yep. We're at that weird stage of the apocalypse now."

She turned to find Tobin dispatching the third walker. But her eyes caught on a patch of red on his shoulder blade.

A circular set of teeth marks.

"Tobin," she breathed.

He just nodded, looking more exhausted than anything. "I know. Come on, we're almost there."

They were the last ones in the infirmary. Mason hesitated in the doorway, searching the streets for anyone they might've left behind.

The only Alexandrians she saw lay sprawled on the ground, run through with arrows or smoldering from cocktail flames.

She closed the door quietly, a contrast to the ruin outside and the cacophony inside.

"She needs a saline drip—Noah, hand me that clamp!"

They were all dead.

"Hold still, I need to apply anesthetic."

All those people out there she was supposed to protect.

"Sit down, you're going to pass out. Aaron, I need you!"

Mason closed her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks.

This wasn't it. This wasn't the place to fall apart. There were still people who needed her.

When she dared look, the scene in the infirmary took her breath away. Blood everywhere, on the floor, on operating tables, on everyone. Denise leaning over a woman whose arm had been…

Mason swallowed. Whose arm had been chopped off.

Noah stood next to her, assisting. Aaron and Enid rushed back and forth with various medical supplies. Abraham tried to get out of bed to help and Denise snarled at him to stay right the fuck where he was.

"The last thing I need right now is for you to tear your stitches."

Wisely, he obeyed.

Mason drifted through the room to the table where Rosita was examining Eugene's face.

"How is he?" she asked.

"This cut will need stitches and his face is burnt, but I can't tell how badly yet. There's glass in his eye, that's what I'm most worried about. And he might have a concussion."

"Miss Espinosa," he groaned. "There will be time to worry about me later. There are others who—"

"Denise told me to examine you. If we leave the glass in, you could lose vision in this eye," Rosita snapped. "Now sit. Still."

Mason's chin trembled. "I'm sorry." She barely got the words out.

He glared at her with his good eye. "Mason, short of being the asshole who blitzed me with homemade nitro, you have no reason to be."

She opened her mouth to argue, but Rosita interrupted.

"He's right." She didn't look at Mason, too busy stemming the bleeding at his temple. "You got him in here. You got Tobin and Gabriel in here. You can't waste energy blaming yourself."

Except that Tobin was bit. Eugene and Gabriel and so many others were hurt. So many others were…

_Shut up. She's right. Blame yourself later._

Steeling her spine, she glanced out the window. She couldn't see the archers anymore, but a line of Wolves with brutal handheld weapons prowled toward them. They were still some distance away, laughing and hooting.

A few stopped to hack at the bodies on the ground. Like it was entertainment. Like they were having fun with it.

Heat kindled in her belly. Monsters, fucking monsters…

Monsters who carried more than weapons.

Monsters who carried gas cans.

The heat in her belly guttered.

They had the Alexandrians right where they wanted them. They could light the infirmary up in a second and be done with it.

She'd done the Wolves' job for them. She had led these people to a tinderbox.

_Don't panic. Not now. Think._

She glanced around the infirmary with more purpose this time. Eleven injured, from what she could see, Gabriel, Tyreese and Eugene among them. Denise delegated orders to those fit enough to help—Aaron, Noah, Rosita, Enid, Tobin. Carl, too, joined them after a moment, giving Judith to Abraham. Sasha stood watch near the door, one hand cupping her pregnant belly.

Two things struck her at once.

The first was that…she _knew _these people now. Much as she had tried to stay away from them, tried not to learn their names or who they were, she knew them all the same.

The second was that there were no available fighters left. Eleven injured, some of them bleeding out on operating tables, and only seven tending to those injured. Sasha six months pregnant. Maggie pregnant as well, hiding with her firstborn.

There were no available fighters left.

But one.

Dread seized her, but she shook it off. She knew what she had to do. There was nothing else.

"Sasha," she called. "You've got a half mag, right? I need you to get upstairs to one of the northern windows. I think they might try to sneak around back and you're the only one with ammo."

Sasha narrowed her eyes. "I can't leave the front unprotected."

Mason smiled weakly and twirled her fire iron. "It won't be."

"No."

The voice came from behind her. She half-turned, but couldn't bring herself to really look at Eugene.

"I have to," she said. "I can't let them get here, if they do, we're _all _dead."

"You cannot stand alone against an entire militia. Let Sasha pick them off from here."

"You know as well as I do she doesn't have enough rounds to keep all of them away. There's no time to argue. I'll hold them off as long as I can."

"_No_!" Eugene jerked to his feet, ignoring the curse Rosita threw at him.

Mason pressed a hand to his chest to stop him, and he grabbed it in his. Beneath her palm, his heart thundered.

"Don't do this, Mason."

"Eugene." Her voice broke. "You have to let me go."

His good eye swam. "Please. _Please_."

She ducked her head so he wouldn't see her own tears. "This is my job, Eugene. Stay here."

She slid her hand from his and made for the door.

"Mason."

This time, she couldn't keep from looking at him. Tears glistened on his face. She ached to reach out and brush them away.

"Come back to me," he said.

She wanted to promise that she would. But she couldn't lie to him.

"I'll do my best," she said and stepped outside.

~m~

Daryl covered her as she scaled the bulldozer. Eric jumped when she appeared at the door, his clammy face crumpling in relief when he realized it was her.

"Beth," he gasped and opened the door.

"Let me see." She scooted inside and dug through one of the many first aid kits they kept in the cars.

Eric propped up his leg with a wince. Beth paused when she saw his ankle.

"That's not a walker bite."

He sat up in shock. "Wh—what?"

"It's not a bite and…" She leaned closer, examining the slash mark in the swollen skin. "I don't think it's a scratch. At least, not from a walker. It looks like someone cut you."

"Well, no…no one was around…"

She frowned. "The swellin'…almost looks like it's from a snake bite. But that's not a bite mark, unless it's somewhere else…"

She turned his foot this way and that, but found no puncture marks. Unease settled in her stomach.

"Somethin's wrong," she murmured, and almost unconsciously, her eyes slid in the direction of home.

"The hell's takin' so long?" Daryl demanded from below, smashing the skull of a walker with his crossbow.

"He's not bit," she called back. "And he's not scratched, not by any walker."

There was a pause, and then Daryl hopped up on the bulldozer himself, balancing like a cat just outside the door.

"The hell do you mean?"

She rolled her eyes. "I _mean _he's not bit, Daryl. Look."

Daryl stared at the wound a moment before blinking. "That's from an arrow."

"Wha… How can you know that?"

He held up his crossbow. "I know a little bit about arrows."

"Well, that means…someone's around here," Eric said.

Beth and Daryl shared a glance, and she could feel the fear taking over her expression. That unease in her stomach blossomed into outright dread.

"We need to leave," she said. "We need to get back. Eric, we're gonna cover you so you can make it to the car, okay? Give me your gun."

She and Daryl fought on either side of him, clearing a path through the dead. But though they made it safely to the car, and though it turned out Eric wasn't actually bitten, there was no sense of relief as she peeled away from the construction site. There was only the desperate need to get back home.

~m~

Alpha perched casually on one of the undamaged watch posts, smiling behind her dead mask at the shambles below her. There were bodies scattered all about, some in many pieces, some charred beyond recognition.

She'd thrown the first cocktail, but stayed behind while the others executed the rest of the plan, waiting for her opportunity. She hadn't known exactly what it would be, but in the end Mason presented it to her on a silver platter.

She'd gotten all of them together in one building. Now the Wolves would set it alight, and the Alexandrians would be forced to run or die. It didn't matter which of the options Mason chose; it would be a simple thing, sweeping in, knocking her out. "Rescuing" her.

Alpha hadn't decided what she'd tell her when she woke up, but it wouldn't matter. Mason would be _hers_. She'd have nowhere else to go, no one else to listen to, but her. It wasn't going to be easier than the original plan, but at this juncture, it seemed the only way to work around the whole "Mason-allying-with-Alexandria" thing.

The damage done to the actual community was an inconvenience, but one they could easily fix. At least there were walls. And everything within those walls they could ever want or need.

Mason would be happy here. She'd forget its former residents with time. Alpha would make sure of it.

Movement from the infirmary cracked her daydream. Her brow furrowed. The Wolves hadn't even reached the place yet, but someone was stepping out.

When she saw who it was, she threw her head back with a loud sigh.

_Are you _fucking _kidding me?_

~m~

Every cell in her body bristled with the instinct to run, but Mason kept her stride steady as she approached the Wolves. Walkers approached but she took them down before they could get too close, prepared now to jump out of reach of the snakes.

They stopped near the garden, puzzled and amused by this turn of events. There were quite a few yards between them and the infirmary, and she wanted to keep it that way.

When there were only a few feet between her and them, she stopped.

"Hello, little sheep," one of the Wolves purred. He held a lead pipe, the end of which dripped blood.

She didn't respond, eyeing each of them and their weapons in turn. Eight in all. Too many for her to hope to defeat on her own, but…she had to try.

"Your name's Mason, right?" the first man continued.

She glanced at him sharply and he laughed.

"Yes, we know you. We're supposed to keep you alive."

The words jolted her. Why her? Who the fuck was running this thing and why did they want _her_?

She shook her head. "You can't have me. Alive, at least."

Another man, a big, hairy guy with an axe, snorted. "What do you think you're gonna do, little girl? Fight us off?"

"I guess so. If you want to get to my people, you'll have to get past me first."

_My people?_

The Wolves seemed thrown by this. It gave her a grim kind of satisfaction. They may have truly been ordered by who the hell ever to keep her alive, but they were also obviously set on killing the rest of her—of the Alexandrians. And if she was standing in the way of that…

She wondered which order would win out.

"Let us pass, Mason," the first man said, all trace of friendly humor gone. "We won't hurt you if you let us pass."

"I can't allow that."

Movement on either side of the line caught her attention. The Wolf on the far left and the Wolf on the far right crept forward, clearly counting on the fact that she couldn't focus her attention on both of them at once. One of them would surely get past her.

She narrowed her eyes.

_Not today, pals._

She dropped her iron and shield as if in defeat.

Once her hands were free, she reached for her gun with the right and her Oasis knife with the left.

The Wolves tried to run, but she was faster. She shot the one on her left, spun, and threw the knife at the one on her right. It sank deep in the back of his neck and he skidded across the pavement.

She scooped up her iron and shield once more and faced the remaining Wolves, who eyed her with new trepidation.

She smiled slightly. "So are we doing this or what?"

The first Wolf rolled his eyes and lunged for her. She blocked the pipe, iron raised to stab him through the stomach. But two other Wolves came at her from her right, forcing her to duck out of the way. She managed to send her iron through the skull of one as she passed but the other darted out of reach.

She jumped back as the huge hairy one brought his axe down. The blade clinked against the cement. She meant to run her iron through his neck but he dodged back and she only caught his arm.

Something sliced her hip. She brought her shield down instinctively, knocking the knife from the hands of a slender woman, who hissed at Mason.

"This isn't _Cats_, honey," Mason said and bashed her shield up into the woman's throat. Blood dripped down her leg, but she barely felt the pain. Her body thrummed with energy.

Two Wolves rushed her, holding either end of a thick chain. Mason ducked low and hooked the chain with her iron, yanking in the opposite direction with all her strength. The men stumbled to a halt, one of them losing his balance completely and nose-diving to the concrete.

Before she could pull her iron free, the big man slashed his axe down her right arm.

She felt the pain that time, dropping the iron instinctively. He loomed over her. She blocked a second blow with her shield and whirled to the side, reaching to retrieve her fire poker.

The Wolf with the pipe kicked it away with a smug smile.

She curled her lip. _Shit._

She fell into a precarious dance, herding the Wolves back, avoiding their weapons, all while trying to move closer to her fire iron.

Her heart sank when she spotted more Wolves in the distance, roving closer.

_Shitfuckshit._

Well, she was definitely going to die.

~m~

There was no logic involved in the decision.

Or…no. There was logic.

There just wasn't any instinct for self-preservation. That was the difference. He wasn't used to that, or at least used to feeling it so thoroughly.

Eugene stopped giving a shit about his own safety the second Mason walked out that door.

But he sat quietly while Rosita cleared the glass from his eye, while she patched his head and the burns blistering the left side of his face.

He needed to be able to see, to function, if he hoped to be of any help.

He waited until Rosita moved on to the next patient. Then he slipped quietly for the door.

Nobody tried to stop him. Nobody even noticed.

For once he was glad of that.

~m~

The big man's axe clanked against Mason's shield, and this time the force nearly managed to buckle her.

He leered. "You're getting tired, little girly."

"Yeah, it's probably time for my nap," she said and kicked him in the balls.

He doubled over with a coughing groan, and the axe slipped from his hand. She grabbed for it, but another Wolf beat her there. He swiped at her and she parried the blow, but the blade caught in her shield. She stumbled back, trying to tug free, but it wouldn't budge.

The Wolf laughed, shaking it to unbalance her. Another approached on her right, knife aimed at her head.

Someone darted between them before he could strike, cleaving the man's skull with a machete. Mason nearly collapsed with shock.

"_Eugene_?"

He kicked the man away before turning to the other Wolf and slitting his throat. He collapsed and the axe finally pulled free of her shield.

She gaped. She couldn't tell if it was anger or relief buzzing in her limbs.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she breathed. "_I told you to stay._"

"Miss Champion, if you think I am going to stand back and let you get yourself killed, you are sadly mistaken. I have just recently decided that—" He cut off, gritting his teeth as he blocked the blow from a knife with his machete. He kicked the wielder to the ground with enough force that their head cracked on the pavement.

He glanced briefly at Mason.

"If you are going to give the middle finger to imminent death, I am going to be right there beside you, flipping that proverbial bird. Or literal. I suppose it depends on what the situation allows."

And she should've been angry. She wanted to be. She _was._

But for some reason, her mouth stretched in a wide, brilliant grin, and her heart swelled, and in that moment she couldn't imagine anyone else she wanted to be flipping that proverbial bird with.

Propelled by new energy, she took up position at Eugene's side as more Wolves approached, drawn by the clamor.

"Where's your weapon?" he asked, slashing his machete at a Wolf who jumped just out of range.

Mason whirled at his side, ramming her shield into the knees of a man who punched at her with a metal dumbbell. "Um, over yonder a ways," she said, nodding to where she'd last seen her iron.

Eugene ducked out of range of a golf club, the end broken off into a jagged shard. His machete squealed against the metal as he brought it up and knocked the club away, opening up the way for him to punch his attacker in the face.

Another Wolf lunged, dragging a knife down his thigh. Eugene ran his machete through the Wolf's throat. Then, with a snarl very unlike him, belted his weapon, seized the Wolf's limp body, and tossed it into the crowd. Some of the Wolves fell. Others tripped over themselves to get out of the way. And Mason realized quickly what he was doing.

Creating a path for her.

She lunged through, but it closed quickly. She spotted her fire poker right as a woman barreled into her, sending her tumbling past it and into the garden.

Her hand landed on something else in the grass. Something strong and familiar.

She gripped it without thinking, scrambling to her feet as the woman closed in. Quickly, she slung her shield onto her back to grip the weapon with two hands.

The scythe cut through the woman's neck with enough force to send her head bouncing out of sight. Her fingers clutched at Mason even as her body collapsed, spurting blood like a fountain.

Some of the Wolves shouted, shouted in fear, and a grim kind of excitement filled her.

Good. They should be afraid of her.

More Wolves surrounded Eugene, who was holding his own but just barely. Mason swung the scythe, hooking it around a Wolf's torso; when she pulled back, the point cut into his chest and straight through his back.

She spun in a wide arc and let the momentum free his body from her blade. It rolled into the gathering of Wolves, scattering a few. It was only then that she really noticed the walkers, pulling closer. Still ignoring the Wolves because of the dead blood coating them.

But they wouldn't ignore her or Eugene.

She rolled her eyes.

_What a beautiful, wonderful day this turned out to be._

~m~

When Eugene's machete broke off in the skull of a Wolf, he almost laughed aloud.

_Hoo, boy, am I fucked now._

Two Wolves lurched for him at once, so he did the only thing he could think of. He tucked low and all but somersaulted into them. The sheer surprise of this move combined with his weight bowled them over, and as he uncurled, he realized the gamble had brought him within reach of Mason's fire iron.

He grabbed it right as three Wolves made a beeline for the infirmary, one of which held a gas can.

"Shit." He staggered to his feet and took off running, shoving Wolves and walkers out of his way.

Mason was faster.

Her scythe swung low, like she was merely cutting grass, and sheared right through all three pairs of legs.

The men howled in agony, collapsing in their own blood and severed limbs. Mason fell with them, thrown off balance by the force of her attack. She landed on the gas can; her shield cracked the plastic, splashing gasoline on the pavement.

The Wolves moved forward, eager to take advantage.

"No!" Eugene darted between them. The iron came up to defend on his right against a hammer and a machete. His arm came up to defend on his left against a knife.

He felt the blade wrench roughly down his left arm. He felt the pain a second later, so sharp and hot it bewildered him. He swung his arm out, catching his attacker in the throat with his fist. His right arm trembled, still holding back the other two.

His core exposed, the Wolves moved in.

One knife slashed his stomach, only one, before Mason was there, shield up. Four different blades scraped the metal, sending off sparks.

The shield burst into flames and the Wolves jumped back. The weight disappeared from the fire iron and Eugene lowered it gratefully. Blood dripped down his arm, his waist. Probably elsewhere, too, but he was too exhausted to take inventory.

In the reprieve, Mason said, "That's the second time today."

Then she straightened and handed the shield to Eugene so she could wield her scythe with both hands. The grip was tight and hot, but he held it firm all the same.

There was no longer a significant distance between the Wolves and the infirmary, maybe only ten yards. Though he and Mason had managed to kill some of them, twelve still stood before them.

And the walkers, roaming freely among the Wolves as though they were no more than vague obstacles, drawn by the fire and the blood…

Blood.

"Cut them," Eugene whispered.

"What?" Mason hissed back.

"Cut the Wolves. We may not be able to take them all down ourselves, but if the walkers scent fresh blood through their disguise…"

She nodded quickly, eyes gleaming. "Got it."

When she hurtled back into it, Eugene paused only for breath before following.

~m~

Mason's body was running simply on stubbornness at this point. Stubbornness, and the memory of the last time she'd fought for so long against a ruthless enemy. Her muscles burned, aching to stop, to rest. The cut on her arm felt like a fire all its own, searing each time she raised the scythe. And the scythe itself…it was a wicked weapon, when its user knew how to fucking aim it right. But she wasn't used to such an unwieldy thing, or at least to using it in combat.

Still, she managed to draw blood, like Eugene suggested. And it worked, to an extent. Any walkers who got close enough to the bleeding Wolves turned on them. But between dodging attacks and covering Eugene and halting any advance toward the infirmary, there just wasn't enough time for the plan to really get a foothold.

At a certain point, she wasn't quite sure when, the odds abandoned them entirely. Nothing significant changed. She only knew it in her shaking muscles, in the scorch marks on her shield, which Eugene had managed to set fire to two Wolves with before it guttered. She knew it in the way he sagged against her for the briefest heartbeat, sweat-soaked and panting. She knew it in the Wolves' glittering eyes.

This had turned into a game for them, she knew. No matter their orders, they were _playing _with them now.

Somewhere in the middle of this, she caught sight of a Wolf hanging back, pacing slowly back and forth while they watched. She couldn't make out much about them. They wore a jacket with the hood up, and a hideous mask of dead flesh to cover their face.

_Enjoying the show, asshole? _she wanted to yell, but dared not spare the breath.

The Wolf with the lead pipe—still alive, fucking bastard—grinned at her.

"You still wanna do this, little sheep? It can be easier, you know. You don't have to bleed so much—"

A gunshot cut him off.

His body toppled, spraying red from the new hole in his head.

Everyone stopped, searching for the source. Mason's heart fluttered in disbelief.

"Beth," she rasped. "_Beth_."

Beth, who appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Who shot down three more Wolves before she was out of ammo, then snatched a hatchet off the ground and flung herself into the fray.

"Get the fuck _away from them_!" she snarled, ducking and dodging and hacking a path to stand in front of Mason and Eugene.

The Wolves didn't seem terribly alarmed by her appearance, darkly amused by it, even.

Until another of them fell, a brightly colored arrow through his temple.

And Mason could've cried at the sight of Daryl, raising his crossbow once more to take aim.

"We can do this," she whispered, blinking to clear her vision. She raised her voice to a rallying cry. "We can do this!"

With Beth at their side, she and Eugene pushed forward once more, dripping sweat and blood, weary but for the hope their friends lent them. When Daryl ran out of his own arrows, he plucked a few of the Wolves' arrows from the ground and wielded them like knives, punching and skewering until he, too, could fight beside Mason and Eugene.

She didn't know how they did it. They were still horribly outnumbered, and there were several moments when it felt they were making no headway at all. But somehow, step by slow, aching step, they forced the Wolves back.

They began to flee when Mason, with one last monstrous swing, decapitated two Wolves at once. First one, then three, then five. The move nearly sent her to her knees but she stayed standing, obstinate, swaying slightly.

Only a handful lingered, backing away reluctantly. Mason wondered what was waiting for them, having failed their mission.

"You fight," one of them said, a tall man gripping a broken bottle in bloody fingers. "You fight for nothing. You _deserve _nothing. Pathetic sheep."

He threw the bottle as the Wolves retreated for the busted gate. Eugene got the shield up just in time, and it shattered harmlessly against it, but even this effort left him staggered, fatigued as he was.

It was the last straw for Mason.

A snarl burst out of her and she raced after them. The edges of her vision blurred a bit, a scream building in her head like a whirlwind. She hooked her scythe through the shoulder of the man and jarred him to a halt. He strained forward, breaking free of the blade, but it didn't matter. Mason was on him in a second.

Grabbing him by the hair, she smashed his face into the pavement. Once, twice, again. The screaming in her head overflowed. She opened her mouth and gave voice to it.

In the silence that followed, she caught one last glimpse of the Wolves as they fled into the trees, the one in the dead mask eyeing Mason a heartbeat longer before disappearing with them.

**A/N: So one of the main reasons I was nervous about this chapter was because I didn't want it to seem too similar to "JSS" in the show. I wanted there to be parallels, but not just...a straight up repeat. Hopefully I accomplished that. Anyway, thanks so much again for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and until next time! xoxo**


	15. Perfect

**A/N: Hello, all. So today's chapter song is "Perfect" by Robert DeLong, because this chapter is sad and the song is sort of a bop and I love that contrast. Please forgive my Spanish at a certain point in this chapter, I'm not a native speaker, but I tried hard to make sure it was accurate. Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing, I really appreciate it. Hope you enjoy this chapter. ****  
**

15\. Perfect

Through the thick, painful thudding in her ears, Mason registered a voice. Someone asking what happened. Someone asking if she was okay.

She nodded but she didn't think that was the right answer. Dimly, she realized she was no longer crouched on the ground. When had she stood up?

And when had it all become so _loud_? Her breathing, the blood in her veins, the reality of everything around her. It was so loud, it was so loud, it was so—

"Eugene, you're bleedin'."

"We all are, Miss Greene."

Bleeding. Bleeding…

Was she bleeding?

Was it her blood?

Slowly, Mason lifted her hands to look at them. Shiny with red, and some of it was hers. Some of it leaked from the cut on her right arm, and from other wounds. But it wasn't _all _hers.

"The hell is everyone?"

"Infirmary."

She'd been here before.

The sunlight was too bright, the edges of her vision hazy with white. But she could feel rain needling down, earth biting her knees, turning from hard-packed to mud. Blood like the weight of a second body, all the heavier for the lives she couldn't save…

She tried to breathe, and it felt like being buried.

She tried to breathe, and it felt like drowning.

_Fuck. Not here. Not now._

But her body wouldn't listen. A cold sweat radiated down her neck and shoulders. A serrated ringing swallowed up the thumping of her pulse.

She heaved for air and felt nothing in her lungs but pressure. She staggered and realized her whole frame was shaking.

"Mason?"

"What's wrong with her?"

Through the blur of glaring light, she registered Daryl's confused scowl, Beth's wide eyes, the grim set of Eugene's mouth.

"She's having a panic attack. Mason."

She reached out and Eugene grabbed her arms; he didn't restrain her, merely steadied her.

"Mason, listen to the sound of my voice. I am right here and you are right here with me. Can you hear me?"

His voice was muffled, but it was secure. She clung to it.

"Are you sure…" Beth, uncertain and scared. "What if somethin' happened to her lungs or—or…"

Eugene kept his eyes on Mason. "There is nothing wrong with her lungs."

"H…how can you be sure it's a panic attack?"

"I used to suffer from them, when I was younger," he said quietly. "Mason, I know it seems damn near insurmountable right now, but I need you to breathe with me. Okay? Hold onto me and focus on my breathing."

Hold on. Breathe. Okay. Okay.

Simple directives, not so simple in execution. But she trusted Eugene. He wouldn't let her suffocate. He wouldn't let her fall out of orbit, no matter the pull of that void, the screaming silence of her own mind…

Her fingers, wrapped around Eugene's arms, slid in something warm and red. She sucked in a breath.

"You're hurt." The words came out without conscious decision to speak. It didn't sound like her voice at all.

"I'll be alright, Miss Reynolds."

But the left side of his face was red and blistering, swelling around the eye. His left arm slashed, his stomach, his leg. He was covered in blood, too, he was covered in blood and she hadn't been able to protect him, she hadn't been able to protect any of them…

Her chin trembled. "I'm so sorry."

She turned, reaching out with one hand but never letting go of Eugene. She reached for Beth, she reached for Daryl. They hadn't taken it quite as bad, but they weren't unscathed, either. Every cut and bruise on them, she felt in her own body.

It should've been her, it should've just been her.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

She wasn't sure they could make out what she was saying at that point. She was breathing again, but only brokenly, only in tears.

Beth wrapped a hand around her waist, pressed her head to Mason's temple. She hummed something Mason didn't recognize into her ear.

Daryl gripped her hand firmly and murmured, "We're here. We're alright. You gon' be alright, too."

Eugene leaned in from the other side, and his breath was warm on her neck as he whispered for her to breathe hold on let it out come back.

She sobbed in the circle of their embrace, and at a certain point she didn't think she was the only one crying anymore.

But together, they held each other through it.

~m~

Instead of ignoring the tug of the stitches, Eugene focused on it. Exposure therapy. It worked before with spiders, swimming, walkers. It was the best way he knew to get over a fear of something, no matter how much it royally sucked ass.

Rosita numbed his arm before she began, which made it easier to tell himself he was merely watching a tutorial. Denise had shown him the basics of suturing, but only on oranges. Before now, he hadn't been ready to really observe the procedure on a person, because of…

_(don't think about it don't think)_

Well, he hadn't been ready. He wasn't entirely sure he was ready now, but he supposed he had to be regardless.

The rhythm was simple. Under and across and up and pull. Under, across, up, pull. Occasionally his stomach would get a little queasy on him, and he'd have to breathe until the cold sweat ebbed. He had to undergo this reset process more than a few times, because any distraction upset the balance, and this impromptu suture tutorial wasn't the only thing demanding his attention.

On the table next to him, Mason sat quietly while Beth sewed up her arm. Eyelids drooping with exhaustion, she looked ready to pass out at the drop of a dime. They had her hooked up to a saline drip, but even so she was ashen with blood loss and shock. Every once in a while she would sway, and he had to resist the urge to reach out and steady her.

Each time, Beth would throw him a look, that very same concern reflected in her eyes. But what could they do to help? There was only so much that stitches and saline would fix.

After a while, Rosita murmured, "_Tu y tu pequeña novia son unos malditos idiotas por cierto_."

Eugene glared flatly. Aaron, inspecting Eric's ankle nearby, snorted. In the corner of his eye, he waited for Mason's reaction, but either she didn't speak Spanish or she wasn't present enough to listen in.

"_Ella no es mi novia_," he muttered back.

"_Pero eres idiotas._"

"_No creo que eso sea relevante_."

Rosita's laugh cut off as someone's monitor flatlined. The whole room tensed. Mason jolted and looked up for the first time, fully awake now. Her face twisted in a silent plea.

Denise rushed to the patient's bed—Francine's. "Beth, crash cart!"

Beth jumped into action at once, face like stone as she wheeled the cart over.

But though they did everything they could, the flatline continued its drone until Denise had to call it. Eugene swallowed hard.

One more dead. He wasn't sure what the tally was, partially because the bodies outside still needed to be counted, and the houses inspected to make sure no one was bleeding to death in secret. Or that an unwelcome visitor hadn't stowed away inside.

Daryl was out searching with Sasha and Abraham now. The latter had only won the argument with Denise because she had other, more immediate concerns. Mason had pleaded for them to wait until she could join them, but no one listened.

"You already held that unfortunate umbrella over us when the shit was really falling," Abraham said. "Least we can do is start in on the shoveling."

Watching Mason now, the way she closed her eyes as Beth returned to finish the stitching, it was difficult to tell whether she would have been better off going with Daryl or not. There was just as much death in here as out there.

"How's that eye feeling?"

Eugene blinked. Rosita resumed her work with total absorption, and he suspected she was trying to distract herself.

"It smarts," he said. "But I would say that is high and above the alternative. Thank you, Miss Espinosa."

When his arm was stitched and wrapped in gauze, Rosita gave him the go-ahead to leave.

"But you need to _rest_." She glared firmly. "And you need to clean yourself up or you'll get an infection. _Idiota_."

"_Aún no es relevante_."

He didn't leave immediately but stood next to Mason, frowning as he took in all the wounds marking her up.

Finally, Beth nodded. "Alright, you're all done."

Mason opened her eyes robotically, unhooked the IV from her arm and hopped off the table. She wobbled a bit when she landed.

"Whoa." Beth steadied her with an arm around her waist. "You have to take it easy. Lie down for a while. You need to get your strength back."

"I'll take that under advisement," Mason said and strode for the door.

Beth and Eugene shared another glance. "Let me know if you require assistance," he said and followed Mason.

The glare of the sun assaulted him. It seemed much brighter now than it had before. More invasive.

"Go rest, Eugene," Mason growled without looking back.

"I intend to, Miss Champion, but later. At the present I believe I have a few more hours of efficiency in me."

Actually, he felt like death, but he wasn't about to tell her that.

She sighed, apparently too tired to argue.

As they roamed the community, the true devastation of the attack sunk in. Bodies littered the ground, some of them family, some of them foe. The stench of blood and shit and smoke choked him. He tried to tell himself that was the only reason for the tears in his eyes.

They met up with Daryl, Abraham and Sasha coming out of Maggie's house.

Mason froze. "A—are they okay?"

"We are." Maggie followed them, holding Gracie in her arms. "Thanks to you."

Mason's neck went tight, and he wondered if she was trying not to shake her head "no". All she said was, "I'm glad you're both okay."

"We're headin' to the infirmary now," Maggie said. "Carl can watch Gracie while I help search the houses."

"No need. I'm here, I'll help."

"Mason, you just—"

"I'm _here_. I'll help. Besides, they might need an extra set of hands there."

When they could not dissuade her, or Eugene for that matter, they sent the two of them to check the houses they hadn't gotten to on the north side. There was less destruction there, but they did come across two bodies by the wall. At least, he thought there were two bodies. It was hard to tell, scattered in pieces as they were.

When Mason saw them, her already ragged expression tore a little more at the edges.

He didn't know what to say. He didn't know if there was anything he could say. But he tried anyway.

"You saved my life," he said. "Again."

She turned partway, but her eyes stayed on the bodies. "I didn't save your life. You saved mine."

"Well…" He let out a weak laugh. "Is that not exactly what we've been doing for each other since we met? In any case, were it not for your instruction, there is no doubt I would not have made it out of that fight with my life intact."

Her chin trembled. He touched her hand, careful of the wound on her arm, and she finally looked at him.

"I thank you," he said. "I mean that truly and emphatically."

She nodded, wiping her eyes with her free hand. "We need to check these last two houses. We'll come back for…for the bodies later."

There was no one in the first house, though one of the windows was smashed and there was a drawerful of silverware scattered on the kitchen floor.

"Someone came in here for a weapon," Mason murmured. She put a hand to her clammy forehead.

"Miss Reynolds, do you need—"

"I'm fine. Just give me a sec."

He watched as she righted a salt shaker, poured some into a cup and filled the cup with water. Then, without a breath of hesitation, she drank the whole thing.

He pulled a face. "What, may I ask, was the reasoning for that?"

"Trick I learned in the desert. To keep my body functioning."

They roamed up the stairs, side by side so they could cover both turns at the top. Their arms brushed, sending a light sting up his stitches.

"We've got matching scars now," he whispered as they cleared the top landing.

She frowned. "Huh?"

He held his left arm out to her right. "I must admit, I have always been under the impression it would be neat to share a matching tattoo with a close friend. If, you know, I did not possess a dizzying fear of needles. I am afraid of a lot of shit."

Mason blinked at their arms, silent the whole time. Then she said, "Me, too."

"You, too, what?"

"I'm afraid of a lot of shit."

There was a body in the second house, severed crudely in half. An old man named Bill, who had only ever been giving and kind. And now he was...

Eugene's fists clenched.

They needed to finish this. No more waiting for the axe to fall. They'd lost too many people already. But when could they? They were almost healed before today's attack, and now…

Exhaustion washed over him. How was it he was still alive when so many good people were dead? How was it they could sacrifice so much and still come up short?

"I…" He cleared his throat. "I think I'll get to burying them now. These were the last two houses and they're clear, so…so next step is to gather the bodies. There is a pine grove along the east wall where we bury our dead. I will begin taking them there at this time."

He was aware he was rambling, something he did when his brain wanted to disconnect from his body. Distantly he realized his fingers were twitching.

"I'll help you," Mason said.

"No. No. You held off a pack of ruthless, reiving invaders almost entirely by yourself not two hours ago. Beth's assessment was accurate, you need rest."

"I won't be able to until this is done. Eugene." She touched his arm. "I come back, you come back. Okay? It's alright if you need to cry, or freak out, or whatever. But please come back."

It took him a moment. Everything hounding him since the Wolves first attacked, since the start of all this, since _before_ all this, seemed to have forged some new alliance to meet their shared goal of driving him to a mental breakdown.

But he couldn't…couldn't get into all of that right now. Couldn't look all those skeletons in the eye when there was shit that needed to get done.

"It's okay," he said. "I'm okay. It has just been…a very long day."

Mason coughed a laugh and led the way downstairs. "Understatement of the fucking year."

~m~

"It's venom."

Beth looked up from checking Tyreese's stats. He was stable—thankfully they'd had the right supplies to treat his punctured lung. It wasn't the worst it could've been, Denise said, but he would still be bedbound for weeks, and likely the chest tube would have to stay in for at least another day.

Denise hovered over Noah, who, once the initial tide of injured were stable, collapsed in a chair. He had his good leg propped up for Denise to examine. An arrow nicked him on his race to the infirmary, he said. Hadn't thought much of it at first with the urgency of everything going on, but when the pain continued, when it _doubled_, enough to make his muscles twitch, he knew something was up.

"Venom?" Noah replied. There was a sickly sheen on his face. "Like a snake?"

Denise nodded. "It ticks all the boxes. Swelling, blistering, nausea, sweating, shakes."

"And Eric's the same way, he was hit with one of those arrows, too," Beth said.

Carl's eyes widened where he sat by the windows with Judith and Gracie. "What—poison arrows?"

"Looks like," Denise said. "Now, I don't have antivenin, but snake bites—or venom, whichever, whatever—_can _be treated without it. We'll just have to monitor our patients more closely—"

"There are snakes in our walls now," Gabriel spoke up from his bed. His knife wound just barely missed the femoral artery, and they'd been able to sew him up quickly. "The walkers that the Wolves let in…they're full of snakes."

Beth stared in shock, but Enid, who was cleaning blood off Olivia's face, nodded. "I saw it," she said. "When Mason and Eugene were out there, I saw them take down a walker. I saw the snakes spill out."

In the chaos, the details of the attack had gone by the wayside. But the scale of how fucked they might've been was beginning to dawn on her.

"What if we could round up some of these snakes?" Gabriel suggested. "You could get antivenom from them, couldn't you?"

"I have no way of knowing what venom from what snake was on those arrows," Denise replied. "It would just be a guessing game and I can't take that risk. Besides, I don't have any of the equipment necessary to make antivenin, or the time to do it. We're just going to have to wait this out."

"We need to round up those snakes regardless," Beth said. "We can't have everyone walkin' around in a snake pit. Especially not the kids."

"I can start lookin'," Maggie said.

"Get Daryl to help you. He knows how to catch snakes."

"Yeah. Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?"

She wondered if Maggie had more to say about her fighting the Wolves. After the initial relief at discovering the other was alright, she jumped immediately to scolding. Beth held her tongue through most of it, too focused on treating the last of her patients anyway.

She followed Maggie to a hallway away from the others. Maggie looked her up and down.

"Is there somethin' else botherin' you? Besides the obvious?"

Beth ducked her head. It wouldn't fool Maggie if she lied; she would probably leave her alone about it, but did Beth really want to be left alone?

"After we chased off the Wolves, Mason had a panic attack," she said. "And I—I just _froze_. I couldn't think of how to help, I just _stood _there."

Maggie's brow furrowed. "Beth, it's alright. You—"

"It's _not _alright. I need to be able to handle this. I already know what to do for panic attacks, I remember everythin' Denise taught me, but in that moment I couldn't even function. _I _panicked. I can't do that."

Seeing Mason in that state sent her straight back to the day Shane busted open her daddy's barn. The horror of realizing there was nothing they could do for their family and friends, that her daddy had been wrong, so utterly wrong. How helpless he'd seemed in the wake of that.

And if he was helpless, what did that make her? Her daddy was strong and calm, a soothing harbor to anchor to. Seeing him so broken had broken something inside her, too, left her rudderless in an ocean she'd been careless to think she knew.

Mason always felt like that. A safe harbor. Even back on the bus, when everything was going wrong, she remained steady, weathering. She knew it was selfish to lean on that, to wish for that, after everything Mason went through today. But the fearful part of her, the one that never quite left that bed on that farm, wished anyway.

"I wasn't expectin' to see her like that," she murmured. "She's always so strong."

"And she's not that anymore?" Maggie's voice was soft but challenging.

"No, no! Of course she is, that's not what I meant. It's just… I don't know. I guess maybe I've been holdin' her up as this pillar when I should just be holdin' her up as a person."

"You know, there's nothin' wrong with admirin' her. I mean for more than just her ass."

Beth rolled her eyes but let it slide. "I thought you didn't like her…"

Maggie smiled a little. "I don't particularly, but I'm also a little biased. She's not a _bad _person. She might grow on me…if she doesn't keep pissin' me off."

Well, that was something, at least.

"Look, I just want you to know you can still talk to me. Even about Mason."

"I know," she said, though in truth she kept a lot of that to herself these days.

"And regardless of what I think of you jumpin' in that fight today, I'm proud of you. Dad would be proud, too."

Her tears pricked unexpectedly. Not for the first time and certainly not for the last, she wished he was there. The world had tried to break him and he wouldn't let it. She wished for that strength.

_(the thing is, you're not the greater good. you're not strong enough.)_

She rubbed her wrist. "I've gotta get back to my patients. Be careful out there. I don't need to be stitchin' you up, too."

Maggie tweaked her side. "Don't tell me what to do, brat."

~m~

All she wanted to do was collapse. Her muscles trembled and burned as she bent to hoist the bodies over her shoulders. Her head spun the glaring daylight into a soup of unwelcome rawness.

Sasha kept watch by the gate, wielding a Wolf's bow. Mason had given her the walkie talkie, unable to bear its silence any longer. They'd sent Abraham to keep watch at the infirmary; Eugene was only able to convince him to go by reminding him that if he tore his stitches, he'd have to wait that much longer to kick some Wolf ass. And Maggie claimed Daryl not long after they took their first bodies to the graveyard to look for snakes.

God, how had she forgotten about the snakes? Probably her brain was trying to repress that particular horror. In any case, she found she couldn't look away from the bodies long enough to think of much else.

So for a while it was just her and Eugene, trucking away at it. They gathered the bodies first. Twelve in all. Twelve lives lost under her watch.

_Fourteen, _she corrected silently. _You lost Francine and Tobin, too._

They didn't bother moving the Wolves yet, merely impaled their brains to make sure they wouldn't reanimate and surprise anyone.

"We burn the plunderers," Eugene informed her. "Out at the quarry, so as not to draw more unwelcome attention."

Once all the Alexandrians were gathered, they started digging their graves. It was grueling work after the fuck-all day they'd had. They paused many times, leaning heavily on their shovels and eyeing each other with the same expression: how the fuck longer could they stay standing?

But Mason didn't allow herself to think of anything else. Not about the crowd in the infirmary. Not about the snakes. Not about the fact that they still hadn't heard anything from Rick or the Misfits or anyone outside the walls. There was nothing but the sear of protesting muscles, of budding blisters, the salt of sweat and the few tears that slipped through her defenses, the warm smell of broken soil.

"Hey, guys."

She flinched, nearly dropping her shovel, and looked up from the pit to see Carl standing over them.

"Want some help?"

She shook her head, scattering beads of sweat. It was a bad idea; the world spun. "We got this. You should stay in the infirmary."

"Everything's quiet back there. You guys can't do this all by yourselves."

Mason hesitated. Now that she'd halted her momentum, all she felt she had strength left for was curling up in the earth and passing the fuck out. Another set of hands would make this shit job go faster.

Weakly, she nodded. Carl grabbed another shovel and set to work.

"How…how is everyone?" Eugene asked hesitantly.

"They're hanging in there. Denise is looking after Noah now, too."

"What happened to Noah?"

"He was nicked by a poison arrow."

Mason blinked. "Poison?"

"Denise and Beth are pretty sure it's snake venom."

When he said it like that, something clicked.

Snake venom. Snakes.

_I knew you'd be a strong one the minute I saw you._

_That's why he let me give you copperhead._

"Oh, fuck," she gasped and slumped against the dirt. No, it couldn't be, it couldn't, they were hundreds of miles from Arkansas…

"Mason?"

"Hey, are you okay?"

She shook her head. She was so drained it was hard to feel her lips. She couldn't hold on to any one thought coherently anymore. "Nothing," she said, crawling clumsily out of the grave. "It's nothing, and I'm okay, I'm just very fucking tired and I'm very fucking sick of my brain doing that thing, you know, where it thinks…"

"Maybe you should—"

"They're back!"

Mason froze, every other thought skittering from her mind. At the other end of the compound, Sasha shoved the gate open, and through the dull ringing in her ears, Mason registered the sound of approaching cars.

And instead of relief, her belly flooded with fear.

What if they'd suffered just as much on their end? What if some of them were hurt, what if they were…?

No, no, they were fine, they had to be, they had to be. She didn't think she could take anything else.

Once the cars were inside, everyone scrambled out, too anxious to park properly. Mason's heart thundered as she took inventory. There was Glenn, Tara, Rosita, Morgan…

Charlie. Dray. Ashlee. Lily and Dave behind them.

They were alright. _They were alright_. She let out a shuddering breath. It didn't even look as though anyone was severely hurt.

But the fear did not dissipate. It wasn't until she spotted Rick that she realized the fear had simply changed form.

He'd left her in charge. He'd left her behind to defend this place and she'd fucked up so royally they'd lost _fourteen people_.

He'd left her behind, and now he was coming home to graves.

"Dad!" Carl shouted, dropping the shovel and racing toward him. Rick hurried to catch him, holding him firmly in his arms a moment before letting go. From here, she could see Carl launch into an explanation for the destruction around them but she couldn't make out the words. She cringed and turned away.

"Eugene," she whispered. Panic built in her lungs. What could she say, what could she possibly say?

"It's okay. It's okay, Mason." He gripped her hand. "I'm right here."

And the way he looked at her, she realized she was lending him strength just as much as he was lending it to her.

Somehow, this steadied her. The fear did not lessen, but it didn't suffocate her, either. She watched Eugene a moment, focusing on the feel of his hand, the blisters and dirt, to get her breathing under control. Then she glanced back at Rick.

He was making his way over now. Carl had finished whatever he was telling him. The instinct to flee sang in her veins, but with the last of her strength, she planted her feet. Eugene's hand in hers made it better, but her body still shook.

She wondered what Rick would do. Scream? Tell her to get the fuck out? Would she even be allowed back after this? It was hard to swallow around the lump in her throat.

She just wanted the axe to fall. She wanted it to cleave her in two and call it a day.

"Rick," she rasped when he was in earshot. "It was a ploy. After you left, they attacked and we…we didn't have time to fight back. It was a ploy and I didn't see it until it was too late."

She drifted forward, pulling her hand from Eugene's. It was just her, just her fault.

Rick was close enough now that she could see the tears in his eyes, but he didn't stop.

Her own vision shimmered. "I should've seen. I should've seen, but by the time I realized, they were already over the walls and there were so many of them, and…and…I'm _sorry_. It's not enough but…I'm so sorry, Rick, I tried—"

Without a word, he closed that last little distance and wrapped her in his arms.

It was fierce but gentle. It took her a moment to realize he wasn't about to kill her, and another to hug him back. When she did, he held her tighter.

That broke her.

It was astounding, how many tears there still were. She thought she'd cried them all out earlier. But against the firm comfort of Rick's chest, a fresh wave overcame her, and her knees almost buckled with the weight of them.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed.

He cradled her head against his chest. "I know," he murmured. "It's alright. You're alright now."

His cheek rested briefly against the crown of her head, and she felt the warmth of his tears soak her hair.

Suddenly it wasn't just this day she mourned, but a hundred others. Not fourteen people, but far more than that, far more than she'd been willing to keep count of.

Her mother. Gina, Nick, Naomi. Her Misfits' families, and by extension, her own. Everyone in the war. Her peoples' freedom. Her freedom, her happiness, _herself_.

She wanted it all back. She wanted herself back.

She was so desperately afraid that wasn't possible anymore.

When the tears calmed enough to speak again, she leaned back and said, "Sorry. I didn't mean…to do that." She knew she would be mortified later, when everything didn't feel like swimming through cement.

"You don't have anything to apologize for." He stepped back to look her over. "Carl said you held them off. You and Eugene."

"Yeah. Beth and Daryl, too." Her voice quivered, and she focused on something that would make it stronger. "Eugene was amazing, they all were. I couldn't have done it without him, and we couldn't have done it without them."

Rick nodded and strode past her. Eugene waited nervously, but Rick merely pulled him into his embrace.

"Thank you," he said. "Both of you. _Thank _you."

Eugene stared at her over Rick's shoulder, eyes wide with surprise. "It…it… No problem, I assure you."

Slowly, the others made their way over. The Misfits enveloped Mason in a group hug, fretting over her wounds, babbling about a mile a minute about the attack. She tried to keep up as best she could, but her consciousness was fraying at the seams. She'd have to go over the details again, when she was more with it.

"Girl, you better lay your ass down before you smash that pretty face on the concrete," Lily said. She had one hand pressed to the small of Mason's back, propping her up.

"Yeah…I'm gonna," Mason mumbled. "Give me a sec."

They drifted with her as she made her way back to the grave she'd been digging. But Carol was already there, shovel in hand.

"We've got this, Mason." Her tone was firm, but there was no blame in it, no anger. "You need to rest."

"Yeah, dude," Tara said. "We're here now. You've done enough."

Mason hovered uncertainly. Rosita and Morgan moved past her with more shovels, pitching in their own assurances. None of this was what she expected. She kept waiting for the outrage, the accusation. The Misfits stuck by her side, like they expected it, too. But there was nothing but the Alexandrians' joint sorrow, and the quiet unity of people who had suffered together before.

This was a community. This was a _family. _The same way the Kingdom had been before Negan.

"Hey." Daryl appeared at her side, his expression unexpectedly gentle. "C'mon."

She blinked. "C'mon where?"

"Somewhere you can sleep. Y'look like shit run over twice."

"More than that, I bet." She glanced at her Misfits. "Will you guys be okay without me?"

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Yes, Mom."

"We're gonna stay here for a bit. Pitch in where we can and keep watch," Dray said. "We already got in contact with Ezekiel. We'll head back once things are a little more stable."

Numbly she nodded and followed Daryl away from the graveyard. Eugene waited for them, and held his hand out to her. She took it without thinking, too dead to worry about how easy it was becoming.

"Did you catch any snakes?" The words slurred together a bit.

"A few," Daryl said. "Still more hidin' about, but I'll flush 'em out tomorrow. Easier earlier in the day. Least we'll have dinner for the next few nights."

"Mm. Rabies."

"Actually, Miss Reynolds, snakes are unable to catch or carry the rabies virus, seeing as they are not mammals," Eugene said. "Birds and cold-blooded animals are immune to it. Which is actually quite interesting and indicative of their link to reptiles, gators and crocodiles in particular."

"And this has been 'Who the Hell Asked?' with Motor-mouth Porter," Daryl muttered.

"I'm sorry, Mason, but did you happen to hear that? It sounded like someone being a salty bitch."

Mason snorted, too tired to really laugh.

They led her up to Beth's room and helped her down into her nest on the floor, but when they turned to leave, she reached for them.

"Wait. I…" She hesitated, flushing with embarrassment. "Will you guys please stay? I don't…I don't think I'll be able to sleep alone."

Under normal circumstances, she never would have asked. But sitting on that floor, stripped raw, it didn't matter how wasted she felt, she knew her brain would fight sleep to the bloody finish. And even when she managed to wrestle herself into unconsciousness, it would not be restful. The nightmares would follow, reinvigorated by the day's events.

She half-expected them to refuse, but instead they gathered a few extra sheets and pillows from the closet and joined her on the floor.

Daryl stretched out beside her, arms crossed behind his head. Eugene curled up on her other side, returning his hand to hers.

"Thank you," she whispered.

And her thoughts didn't fight her so fiercely, knowing they were there.

~m~

The sun was setting by the time Beth left the infirmary. Since everyone was stable and had been for hours, Denise dismissed her.

"Okay, but wake me if anythin' changes," she said.

It made her feel less guilty that Maggie was there now, with Enid and Aaron in case things took a turn. Rosita and Glenn were off preparing a late dinner to keep everyone's stamina up, but Beth didn't think she had the energy to stay up for it.

She almost turned on the light when she reached her room, but caught herself just in time. The glow from the hallway illuminated the silhouettes on the floor—Mason, nestled in her usual spot, and Daryl and Eugene cuddled up with her. It was the same way she and her Misfits slept piled together, limbs tangled, arms locked around each other, and the sight put a strange feeling in her heart.

"Why do you guys sleep like that anyway?" Beth had asked her one day after training.

"Partly out of habit," Mason had replied, grinning while she tied an unruly shoelace. "We were broke as fuck, so we all decided to pile into a one-bedroom apartment to save money. Broke our lease, but no one ever ratted on us. Probably because I sold weed to a good portion of the building, but that's neither here nor there…

"We're also very touchy-feely, even if Charlie tries to act like she isn't. But I mean, bottom line is, we, you know, love each other." She shrugged. "That's just how we express it."

Warmth swelled in her chest, temporarily stifling the day's sorrow. She tiptoed over, knelt carefully at the edge of the nest and tentatively tried to wriggle in among them.

None of them woke, but they made room for her anyway, mumbling incoherently while they shifted and held out their arms. Smiling, she curled up between Daryl and Mason. Leg over Mason's leg. Hand on Eugene's hand. Daryl's arm reaching over, like he hoped to hold them all at once.

She loved them. She loved them so much.

~m~

Alpha didn't hesitate. The first Wolf she saw, she grabbed by the throat and drove her knife through their stomach. The other Wolves jumped out of the way as her victim collapsed, trying in vain to catch their intestines as they spilled out.

"What. The fuck. _Was that_?" she seethed. Spit flew through her clenched teeth.

"She…she tried to fight us," Joseph, a skinny, dark-haired Wolf, said. He bent himself low when she wheeled on him, but continued. "You said you wanted her alive."

"I also fucking said I wanted the rest of them _dead_!"

All that planning, all that preparation…all because she'd gambled on staying in the background. But she hadn't trusted anyone else to capture Mason, and she hadn't been willing to reveal herself until she absolutely had to.

"We know. We're sorry. We weren't expecting the others to hold their own so well."

She huffed a vicious laugh. "No. _I'm _sorry. Are you telling me you couldn't handle four of those sheep shits? All of you, with your arrows and your dead. _All of you_. And you couldn't manage four of them?"

"It…it wasn't…" Joseph sighed, and his expression hardened. "They needed to be shown. They needed to be taught. That place isn't for them. This _world _isn't for them. That's what you always say, isn't it?"

Alpha's eyes narrowed. The others remained silent, but she could practically hear the doubt, the fear that resembled excitement. No one had openly challenged her in over a year. Slowly, she circled him, rubbing her blood-slick fingers together.

"You asked us not to kill her, but you never said she couldn't suffer. You asked us to kill the others, but you never said _they _couldn't suffer. Once they started killing our own, we had no choice. They had to learn that it didn't matter whether they stood as one or not. They're weak. They have no place here."

"So you tried to enlighten them." She nodded thoughtfully. "You were just playing with your food."

"Of course," he said flatly. "I was only doing exactly what we do with everyone else. If you wanted it different, you should have intervened."

Uncertainty rippled through the pack. It was exactly like that day in Arkansas when she challenged Caan, when she first got a taste for blood.

"Of course. That makes perfect sense." She paused, sliding a thumb up and down the blade of her knife. "Except…they _didn't _learn. You _didn't _kill them. And I'm just wondering what that makes you, if they're weak and still managed to drive you off."

Joseph stared her down. A small smile played at the corner of her mouth.

When he lunged, she ducked low, jabbing the knife at his chest. He knocked her arm away and snatched a fistful of her hair.

He let go almost immediately, yelping as if she'd burnt him. Blood scattered from the fresh punctures peppering his hand. She grinned and flashed toward him again, and after a few precise blows, knocked him to the ground. Before he could recover, she ran her blade through his left palm, then ground the heel of her shoe into his right, effectively pinning him to the forest floor.

He struggled as she perched over him, but she ignored this. Instead she twirled a finger through one of her red curls and said, "You weren't there. In Arkansas, I mean. So you don't know about the Reeling Fields. But I got this idea from them."

She held the strand of hair out for him to see. Woven in near the root, a jagged shard of bone gleamed, one of a dozen. She had a whole jar of them back in her apartment, harvested from the dead over the months.

"So what to do with you now…"

She pretended to ponder it a moment, taking in her surroundings from her peripherals. No one else seemed willing to follow in Joseph's footsteps. She sniffed in satisfaction.

"Beta," she called lazily. "Bring me something heavy. I don't care what, just something that can crush a femur."

Silence greeted her. She paused, glancing over her shoulder. The pack shuffled uneasily.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Where is my Beta?" she growled.

The pack murmured amongst themselves but no one responded to her directly. She clenched her teeth.

"_Where is Owen_?"

"We—we saw him fall behind the infirmary," Jenna said, shaking so badly her curls bounced. "They shot him."

Alpha blinked. "So he's dead?"

"I…"

"Is. He dead."

Jenna swallowed. Then she shook her head.

Without a word, Alpha freed Joseph's right hand to kick him in the ribs. While he lay groaning, she pulled her knife from his left and stabbed him through the throat.

She wheeled as he choked on his blood and strode toward Jenna, who flinched but had the balls to stay standing. Alpha stroked the tip of the blade against Jenna's throat.

"He's not dead?" she purred.

"I mean, he might be at this point, they might've found him, but—but last I saw, he was dragging himself away…"

For a second, she fought the urge to drive her blade through Jenna's neck. But she'd already lost too many today. She couldn't afford to succumb to indiscriminate whims. Especially now, with Owen behind enemy lines.

And maybe he _was _dead, maybe they'd found him and killed him, maybe he'd bled out.

But if he hadn't, and they found him…

He knew so much. More than most of the Wolves, certainly more than these fuckers. If they got him to talk…

Fuck.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckityfuck.

"Well," she said, sheathing her knife. "What a productive fucking day."

**A/N: So that first sentence from Alpha's POV, I had to stop myself from writing "Alpha didn't hesitate, bitch" because my brain is basically a trash bin for Vines and memes and not much else. In case any of y'all don't speak Spanish, that conversation between Eugene and Rosita basically goes: **

**"You and your little girlfriend are fucking idiots by the way."**

**"She's not my girlfriend."**

**"But you are idiots." **

**"I don't think that's relevant." **

**Let me know if there's a better way you'd like me to translate, or if you even want me to, or whatever's best. I just really love the idea that Eugene and Rosita are gossip buddies, and they switch to Spanish to keep the others who don't speak it from figuring out what they're saying. Anyway, hope you enjoyed! This chapter was going to be longer, but once again, I had to split it up. It's just dawning on me how much more stuff I have to write because I'm not following canon, which I'm okay with, but I hope it doesn't feel like it's dragging or anything. But yeah, thanks for reading and until next time, much love xoxo.**


	16. Be Not So Fearful

**A/N: Hello, all! I was hoping to get this chapter out yesterday but I always do things a little late, so here we are. Today's chapter song (and the song Mason sings to Tobin) is "Be Not So Fearful" by A.C. Newman; this one was actually used in the show (s4e15 I believe? where the first group makes it to Terminus), so I think that makes it a fitting TWD song lol Like I said in the last chapter, this is really just a continuation of that one, so I think it has sort of the same feel, but I added a few lighthearted moments to keep it from getting too angsty. As always, really big thank you for reading and reviewing, I appreciate it so much! Hope you enjoy this one. **

16\. Be Not So Fearful

Mason climbed slowly out of sleep, reluctant to acknowledge that she was actually awake. By some miracle, she'd had no nightmares. Or she supposed that was less miracle and more to do with the arms that held her through the night.

Blindly she reached for them, and sat up when she realized they weren't there.

"Hey, hey."

The room was still dark, just a bit of light glowing through the curtains; it took her eyes a moment to adjust and see Daryl sitting nearby.

"Easy," he said. "You're alright."

"Where's Eugene?" she rasped.

"Beth took him to the infirmary. His eye swelled up while he slept and they're checkin' for infection. But he's okay otherwise."

"You didn't go with?"

"Didn't want you to be alone when you woke up. Here. Brought you some water."

He held a glass out to her and she guzzled it greedily.

"Guess I shoulda brought a whole pitcher…"

"Just dump me in a fucking pond." Mason wiped her dripping chin. "Thank you. How long have I been out?"

"'Bout a whole day."

"_What_?"

He shrugged. "Somethin' like that. All last night and most of today. Anyone ever told you you snore like a gutted skunk? You and fuckin' Eugene…fuckin' wonder me and Beth got any sleep."

She ignored the jab, guilt needling her gut. "You guys should've woken me."

"Nah, you needed it."

Mason looked down, running her finger along the rim of the glass. "How is everyone doing?"

"Well as could be expected. No one else died yet, if that's what you mean."

She flinched. He watched her a moment.

"Hey. You know ain't none of this shit your fault, right?" When she didn't respond, he kicked her foot lightly. "Hey. It _ain't_. Why you always walkin' around like you're the source of every damn misfortune? World don't revolve around you, you know."

Underneath the teasing, the genuine concern surprised her.

And for a moment, she was tempted. To spill everything. About Gina, and her mom, and her fuckhead father. About the Saviors lining her people up, about how she was the reason behind the swing of that bat…

_(take a good look, doll. I want you to remember what you've done)_

But she couldn't. It wasn't Daryl's problem. She'd held all this inside her for so long, never speaking of it, not even with her Misfits. She was afraid that they wouldn't be able to hide the truth in their eyes. That even though they had forgiven her, and even though they loved her, she was still the monster the rest of the Kingdom saw her as.

Why was it harder now? Why did it hurt to hold in the past with Daryl, with Beth and Eugene?

Because they understood, but more than that, because they hadn't been there.

They'd been through their own shit, been on the road, endured the walkers and the wilderness same as her. They understood that aspect far more than most in her Kingdom did. But they hadn't been there to see firsthand that war, to see what she'd done, to witness the way she'd fucked up and others paid the price. That was the difference.

After so long spent in the silence, the urge to give in to the truth, to hand over the entirety of it, was almost too much to bear.

"I, uhm…" She cleared her throat and half-smiled. "You're right. Sorry. We're all going through it right now, I just…wish yesterday hadn't happened."

In the brief silence, she couldn't tell if he bought it or not.

"You know, those people at your Kingdom," he finally said, "they don't get the right to treat you like shit. I don't care what you did before. People do shitty things sometimes. It don't mean you're a shit person."

She didn't know what to say. So she fell back on a tried-and-true tactic.

"I don't know about you, but I'm still thirsty as fuck."

Changing the fucking subject.

Daryl grabbed the glass. "I'll get you some more."

"No, I'll get it myself. It's well past time I get my ass up. Plus I wanna see how Eugene's doing."

She stood, wincing a bit as her stiff muscles protested. Her stitches burned when she tried to stretch. Standing flooded her with more than just pain; everything from yesterday came back, including a detail she'd pushed from her mind until now.

"And…I think I'll need to talk to the council," she said reluctantly.

Daryl didn't ask questions, which she appreciated. He just elbowed her and said, "C'mon, then."

~m~

Eugene tried not to slouch awkwardly in his chair. Miserable despite the painkillers Denise had given him, face and arm burning dully beneath their bandaging, left eye swollen shut. There was nothing wrong with it that was going to give him lasting damage, but it was still off-putting and more than a little irritating having only part of his eyesight.

Not really the way he'd envisioned it, sitting in as part of the council for the first time.

When Rick asked him, there in the infirmary with Mason and Daryl, all he could think to say was, "Why?" Only belatedly did he realize how ungrateful it must have sounded, but he was too shocked and tired to maintain social etiquette.

Thankfully, Rick seemed to understand. "The bullets, asking for fighting lessons, jumping in yesterday where you were needed…you've really stepped up. You're a true asset to us, Eugene. You always have been, it just took us a while to figure that out. It took _you _a while. We could really use your insight on the council, now more than ever."

He thought he'd feel proud. Part of him wanted to, but mostly there was just doubt.

Definitely not how he'd always dreamed. He took comfort from Mason and Daryl sitting next to him, though, and the fact that no one seemed opposed to him being there. The news that Mason was sharing, however, was not at all comforting.

"Wait, you _know _these people?" Glenn asked.

"I don't know if I do," she said. "I didn't see anyone I recognized, at least. But the cult I ran into on the road, they used snakes. They poisoned me and they tried to poison Ava. Maybe that's just a coincidence, but…these Wolves also said they wanted me."

Eugene stiffened. "What?"

"They said their leader gave them orders to take me alive. They used my name. I think that's really the only reason I…survived yesterday. They were afraid of what would happen if they killed me."

Michonne frowned. "But why target us? If it's you they want, wouldn't they have gone after the Kingdom first?"

"I don't know. Maybe they didn't like that I was teaching some of you to fight?" She glanced at Eugene and he stared back grimly.

"I don't think that's enough to motivate them to attack the way they did," Sasha said. "Sure, maybe the whole thing was orchestrated to capture you, but I don't think you training two of our people is enough of a reason. There's something else."

"Perhaps you are correct and it's this cult that has a score to settle," Eugene said. "I agree the finer points are too much a coincidence to deny. But, total honesty, nothing more, it does seem a bit of a stretch that they came all the way to Virginia for one person."

Mason shrugged. "Yeah. Maybe _that's _a coincidence."

"Given the data available to us, I'd say that's doubtful. Either it is them and they were following you specifically, or it's someone else completely."

"I don't give a hairy nutsack who's doing this," Abraham said. "It's open season on Wolves now. I say we stick to the original plan."

"How?" Glenn demanded. "We're down even less people than we were before and we have no ammo."

"I've seen us work some downright miracles with less."

"Our Knights could add a good twelve people, if Ezekiel agrees," Mason said. "Pretty sure he'll want this done as soon as possible."

"Maybe we won't even need that many," Morgan said. "Quite a few of them fell yesterday. Maybe they don't have the numbers to strike again."

"That's what we assumed before and they just kept coming," Carol muttered. "At least ten got away yesterday on our end, and there's probably more waiting in the wings. I think we have to hit them with everything we've got while we're still able."

"She's right," Rick said. "Can't hesitate now, we've got to act."

"We can't just leave today," Michonne argued. "No ammo, all our people exhausted or hurt? That's not a fighting force."

"We'd run the same risk we did yesterday, with not enough people left to defend this place," Maggie added.

Sasha shook her head. "We played the waiting game before. It's too risky."

"We have to at least allow a little time to build back our supply of ammo," Eugene said. "If I can enlist a few more candidates to assist me, this could be accomplished in a reasonable time period, taking into account several factors, of course. Supply availability shouldn't pose a significant roadblock. All bullet casings can be recycled, and some of the metal weapons dropped by our friendly neighborhood wolf pack smelted down."

"Maybe, um…maybe you won't even have to do that," Mason interjected. She stared down at the table, like she was trying to decipher a hidden code in the wood grains.

"What do you mean?" Daryl asked.

"If it's me they want, why not just, you know, give them that?"

There was a beat of silence before Abraham scoffed, "_Hell_ no, girlie," and the others joined in.

"We don't send our allies out to die," Glenn said.

"That's not how we do things," Michonne agreed, eyes glinting.

"It's not an option," Rick growled.

But Mason didn't look as though she accepted any of it, until Eugene took her hand and said, "We will not be doing that."

She sat for a moment, jaw working, legs bouncing feverishly. "Well, then…I'll help you with the bullets. You'll need someone to watch your back out there, anyway."

"I'll go with y'all, too," Daryl said.

Rick nodded. "How many people will you need, Eugene?"

"Um. Six could streamline operations notably, if they can be spared."

"Don't worry. We'll make it work."

~m~

Beth joined Mason and Eugene in scouring the neighborhood for bullet-making paraphernalia. Daylight leaked away, but Eugene claimed flashlights would make it easier to locate casings.

Despite the approaching night, nothing in the atmosphere of the community suggested settling in for it. Everyone was up and doing something. Carl and Tara searched for casings behind the infirmary, where Sasha had made her stand during the attack. Daryl was off hunting for copperheads; apparently they came out at night. There were Misfits at every watch post; Heath and Glenn overseeing repair work on the gate; Rosita up to her elbows in the truck the Wolves had left, trying to determine if it was salvageable.

Plenty of noise, but there was silence among the three of them. Beth didn't need a mind-reader to know Mason was thinking about yesterday. She wished she wouldn't. She wished there was a way to get her to smile, just for a little bit.

When she finally spotted a casing, she made a point to glance at Eugene before she picked it up and said, "This one's empty." She hoped he would remember the game they came up with on the road out of Georgia, and he didn't disappoint.

Perfectly deadpan, he held open a bag for her to toss it into and replied, "Yeet."

Mason froze in her tracks. "Wh—_what_?"

Beth grinned at Eugene and he winked before pointing toward the gate. "Road work ahead?"

"Uh, yeah, I sure hope it does!" she chorused.

"Guys." Mason's voice was stern, but there was a smile teasing the corners of her mouth. "Stop."

But Beth and Eugene crowded up on either side of her instead.

"Why?" Beth asked. "Are you disgusted? Are you revolted?"

Eugene elbowed her. "Did you dedicate your entire life to our lord and savior Jesus Christ, and this is the thanks you get?"

"You guys. You're fucking idiots—"

"Did you hear that, Eugene? You're no good, duck."

"You'll never be shit," he replied.

"You're just. Like. Ya father."

Mason dissolved into unwilling giggles. "Shut _up_! Oh my god…"

Beth high-fived Eugene. "Sorry, Mason."

"We will try to be less hilarious next time, although if you'd like to talk mission impossibles…"

"Neither of you is hilarious. I'm embarrassed to be associated with you two." But there was no real bite to the words.

The levity didn't last long, but things weren't quite as tense as before, either.

When they finished up, night had officially fallen. They hadn't found many casings but they hadn't really expected to; Tara and Carl found a little more. But each one was a chance for survival. They dropped everything off at the armory, where Carol was taking inventory. They had a whole slew of handheld weapons now, which Beth supposed was good news.

It didn't escape her notice how Mason and Eugene started to lag at this point. Her heart clenched sympathetically. Even with as much sleep as they'd gotten, they were still bound to be worn. She motioned them toward the infirmary.

"C'mon. You can rest up in there a little while and we can make sure everythin's healin' up the way it's supposed to."

She sat them down side by side on a hospital bed and set to work examining their wounds. The swelling around Eugene's eye had come down some, though he still winced when she touched it. They both asked for water and drank it in record time.

Beth frowned. They were still clearly dehydrated and, as far as she knew, hadn't eaten much since yesterday. They needed to replenish their electrolytes.

"Denise, do we still have any Pedialyte?"

"There's some in the pantry, I think."

"Okay, guys, just sit tight. I'll be right back."

Beth stepped outside, but she didn't make it far before Daryl hurried toward her.

"Beth. Grab some gauze. Morgan and I need you."

Her heart quickened, the way it always did when called upon treat someone. "Is he hurt?"

"It's not him. Just c'mon."

She rushed back inside and grabbed a roll of gauze. Denise's eyes widened.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know, Daryl just said he and Morgan need me. _Stay_ right there." She pointed stringently at Mason and Eugene, who started to push off from the bed. "It won't help anybody if you two pass out on me."

"You need me to come with?" Denise asked. But she cast a worried glance at her patients and Beth knew it was best she didn't leave.

"I've got this, don't worry."

Daryl led her back behind the infirmary, to the side of a house in the northwest corner. She wasn't sure what she expected, but it certainly wasn't a dingy rag of a man with a 'W' scarred on his forehead. Morgan stood over him, staff at the ready, but the man didn't seem inclined to put up a fight. Curled in on himself, he had his hands pressed to his right flank, soaked in so much blood his shirt was nearly black with it.

Beth blinked. "He's one of them."

"Found him hidin' out in the crawlspace under this house." Daryl paced back and forth, clearly wanting nothing more than to end the man right now.

"We thought if you could heal him, we could…ask him some questions," Morgan explained. "About his people. How many might be left, and if they're still hiding out in that town. Maybe even use him as leverage."

Beth swallowed, eyeing the Wolf with distaste. She didn't particularly want to help him, didn't want to take one step closer to him. But Morgan had a point. They needed all the information they could get.

Wordlessly she knelt at the Wolf's side, touching the solid comfort of her knife. Just in case. Then she set to work.

~m~

Mason was really starting to hate the smell of the infirmary. She knew from here on out, anything even comparable would bring her back to this particular hell of a headspace.

She worried what Daryl needed Beth for, but surely it couldn't be too terrible? If it was, wouldn't they need more people, more medical supplies?

The infirmary was crowded, people taking breaks from their work efforts to visit their friends and family. Sasha and Abraham sat next to Tyreese, holding hands. Tara brought some tea for Denise, who kissed her absently as she checked on Tobin. Rick and Michonne came by to go over some blueprints with Noah, who was still clammy but already looked stronger.

Quietly she watched them all, thinking over the council meeting again. What if handing herself over was the key? What if that was how she could keep these people safe?

_But you still have the Kingdom to look out for. Ava and the Misfits. You can't leave them._

It was right, that was right, but knowing this didn't stop her aching with frustration and guilt.

"Shit. Tobin?"

Mason blinked. Denise had one hand pressed to Tobin's forehead, the other gripping his wrist to check his pulse.

Tobin's face contorted, waxy with fever. "It's alright, doc," he said. "I think…it's time."

Denise nodded, closing her eyes in defeat. "He's right," she said quietly. "This is it."

Mason flinched, remembering how he'd asked for fighting lessons only yesterday, how he'd stopped to help her and Eugene and gotten bit for his kindness…

A hush fell, broken only by the beeping of machinery, until Rick finally spoke.

"Can we get you anything? Anything to…make you more comfortable?"

Tobin laughed a little. "I think that's probably a lost cause at this point."

"Would it comfort you to hear any words from the Book?" Gabriel asked.

"Sorry, Father. Went to church a few times but never really found what I was looking for." He tipped his head to the side and sighed. "Music, though. That's the closest I ever felt to whatever I was looking for."

Before anyone could respond, Mason got up from the bed without conscious decision. Tobin smiled curiously as she came to stand by his side. She took his hand.

"Me, too," she said.

She didn't let herself feel self-conscious as she began to sing.

It was a gentle song, a sad song, but hopeful. It was the first thing that came to mind. She hoped it was enough. To let him know she was sorry, that everything…everything was going to be okay.

His expression relaxed while she sang. She couldn't bring herself to look away from him; ridiculous as it was, she was afraid to see the faces of the others. She shied away from the thought that she wasn't just singing in front of him, but them, as well. She hadn't done that for anyone but her closest friends in a long time.

When the song was over, Tobin smiled. "Beautiful," he murmured and closed his eyes.

Slowly, his hand went limp in hers.

She kept holding on, even when she knew he was gone. Tears slid down her face. She only let go when Denise laid a hand on her arm.

"He's gone, Mason," she said. "It's…it's alright."

She stepped back, looking away as Denise ran a knife through his temple. The others watched her in a way she wished they wouldn't. Solemn but soft. She made to retreat back to Eugene's side, but paused when she realized Beth stood in the doorway with Daryl and Morgan.

"Beth." She wiped at her eyes. "Is everything okay?"

Everyone turned to look at them, wariness mingling with their sorrow.

"We got somethin' we need to talk about," Daryl said.

~m~

"We can't keep one of them here, are you joking?" Carol looked around the table incredulously.

Eugene couldn't decide if he agreed with her or not.

"He'll be under guard the entire time," Rick assured her, though his expression was dark.

"Can we really spare someone to do that?" Maggie asked. "We need all hands on deck right now."

"I'll fuckin' do it," Abraham said. "Sitting there with my feet up, waiting for that dick slime to give me one more reason to jackhammer him with lead? Sounds like a cherry gig to me."

"It can't just be you," Sasha replied. "We'll have to rotate guard shifts."

Rick tipped his head. "Well, that's fine. We can't let this one go, not if we can learn something useful from him."

"And if we don't learn anything? What then?" Morgan asked.

"We can't let him go. We can't let them live."

Morgan said nothing but nodded. From what Eugene gathered of late, he was still struggling with his desire not to kill. But at least he seemed to have accepted that sometimes it was necessary.

"Given the severity of his wound, it will be a short piece before any information can be accrued, at least any we could trust the coherency of," Eugene said. "He is feverish and in shock. Nothing he says at the current moment can or should be trusted."

"And what about after?" Michonne said. "How do we know we can trust anything this cretin says at all?"

Eugene couldn't disagree with her.

"Maybe he'll have to respond to a little…persuasion," Mason said. She played with the hem of her shorts, clearly reluctant.

"After what those assholes did to our people?" Daryl huffed through his nose like a bull. "Fucker's lucky I ain't strung him up by his balls yet."

"So…how do we do it?" Glenn asked. He looked faintly sick, but as he hadn't voiced any opposition, Eugene figured he acknowledged this as the sensible option.

"I—" Mason's voice choked a little and she had to pause to clear it. "I have a little experience with this kind of stuff. I'll do it."

But Daryl waved her off and growled, "Nah. You ain't doin' it. I'll do it."

Rick nodded. "You and I will discuss how to go about it. Until then, there will always be an armed guard outside his room, and no one will be in that room with him alone."

When the meeting was dismissed, Mason lingered, nudging Daryl with her elbow.

"I can do it, really."

"Got nothin' to do with whether you can or can't." Daryl shook his head. "Ain't no reason you should be the only one carryin' that shit."

Something passed between them Eugene couldn't read. Mason's eyes softened.

"Thank you."

"No problem. Now go on."

Eugene and Mason walked together through the dark community, but paused awkwardly outside of Beth's house.

"I suppose, uh, I'll see you in the morning," Eugene said.

"Oh." Mason looked startled. "Oh, I guess…I guess you'll probably want to sleep in your own bed tonight." She rubbed the back of her neck. "Sorry about last night, by the way."

Actually, it was the best sleep he'd had since the night they'd taken shelter in that car, but he was too nervous to say so.

"There is no need to apologize for that, ma'am, but, yes, it would probably be…proper." _Proper?_ He soldiered on, face burning. "Unless you need me."

"No. I mean, yes! I—I do need you. I don't mean that in a weird way. Just, like, in a…you…make me happy…kind of way? Look, all I'm trying to say is, you don't have to sleep with me." Her eyes went wide. "I don't mean _that _in a weird way!"

Warmth rushed from his head to his toes and back again, leaving him a little dizzy. But in an attempt to spare her, he managed to say, "Well, I am pleased to be of service, and by all accounts you…instill in me…the same. By that I mean… Feelings."

_Bail. Out. Before you say something even more frighteningly inept._

"Well, good night, Miss Reynolds, I look forward to seeing you in the daylight hours."

_Bravo._

He turned robotically on his heel and all but power-walked away.

It took him a while to fall asleep. He thought once he collapsed into bed, he'd be gone, but the room felt too quiet, too big. He wished Mason was there, that Daryl and Beth were. He hated sleeping alone but it had never felt more distinct.

When he finally drifted off, he found himself back in the truck that had nearly carried him all the way to D.C. from Houston. From the scenery passing by, he thought they must be somewhere in Georgia.

And then the truck pulled to a stop, and he recognized where they were, _when _they were. It was the moment they'd found Tara and Glenn at the side of the road and picked them up.

Abraham whistled. "She looks mad enough to kick a lion in the liver."

Tara faced the truck and shouted, "Hope you enjoyed the show, assholes!"

"And she's got the balls to follow through on that. C'mon. It's the NFL draft pick."

Just like before, Abraham and Rosita climbed out of the truck and Eugene followed. But unlike before, someone else hopped out of the back and strolled forward to stand with them.

Her hair was short and messy, just barely grazing her ears, but it was her all the same.

Mason.

"You got a damn mouth on you, you know that?" Abraham said.

With a lazy grin, Mason stepped protectively in front of Eugene, aimed her gun at Tara, and said, "What else you got?"

~m~

Beth looked up from feeding Gracie as Mason walked in. She raised an eyebrow at her appearance.

"You look like you just ate a Skittle off the ground but it turned out to be an earrin'."

Mason pulled up short. "Did that happen to you?"

"No, but my brother Shawn could be real dumb sometimes. You feelin' alright?"

"Oh, yeah, sure, just at it again, humiliating myself…" she muttered.

Beth giggled. "Oh. I'm sorry. You wanna talk about it?"

Something crept into Mason's expression that Beth couldn't decipher. "Not really. Maggie and Glenn still out?"

"Glenn is. Maggie's just takin' a shower. This one's decided it would be fun to start reverse cyclin'."

"Ah. Yeah, Ava really kept me on my toes with that shit."

"I bet that was a lot harder to deal with out on the road."

Mason shrugged. "Everything's harder out on the road."

"Guess that's true. Hey, you wanna hold her? I don't think you've gotten the chance yet."

"Uh, I'm…that's okay. I'm not super good with babies…"

Beth threw her a withering look. "Seriously?"

"Ava's different. She's family."

"Well, you're our family now, too. Stop bein' such a scaredy-cat."

With a blink, Mason approached hesitantly and took her in her arms. Gracie fussed a little when the bottle disappeared, but once Mason started feeding her, she settled.

After a while, Mason smiled softly. "I remember when Ava was teething. She had this obsession with my hair. Any chance she'd get, she'd try and eat it."

Beth laughed. "So that's why you chopped it short."

"I didn't have to. She got me when I wasn't looking and that was just the aftermath."

They shared a gentle glance. The past they shared was starting not to feel so painful, Beth realized. She was starting to look back on the good parts with happiness again. She was extremely glad for that.

A third voice made them both jump. "We named her after Bethy, you know."

They looked up as Maggie walked over, smirking and rubbing a towel through her hair.

"Really?" Mason glanced at her. "You never told me that."

"It's my middle name. Grace."

"That's pretty cool. I'm named after stoneworkers."

Maggie rolled her eyes, but Beth thought there was less animosity in the gesture than usual.

"Do you have any names picked out for this next one?"

"Amelia or Hershel, we're thinkin'. Amelia was Glenn's sister's name. Hershel was our dad's name."

Beth smiled sadly. Her daddy would've made a big show about how they shouldn't name the baby after him, but he would've been so incredibly proud, too.

"Those are really nice names," Mason said. Gracie squirmed, clenching her chubby fingers in Maggie's direction.

"Here. I'll take her." Maggie scooped her out of Mason's arms. "You two oughta get to bed. We've got some long days ahead of us."

But Beth wasn't sure she'd be able to sleep knowing that at any moment, Denise might send for her, or the Wolves might attack again, or any number of crappy events could go down.

"I think I'm gonna sit out on the roof a bit," she said.

"You're not gonna sleep?" Mason asked around a mouthful of toothpaste.

"I will, in a bit."

Mason spat, rinsed and said, "Um. Do you…want some company?"

The offer was so unexpected, Beth couldn't help breaking into a sunny grin. Mason smiled back.

"Of course, silly."

They climbed out through Beth's window and sat facing east. The moon had already ducked behind the trees in the west; the stars above looked like dust stirred by its passing.

"Eugene and Daryl and I sit up here a lot. Or we used to, before all this." She paused a moment before continuing. "I think I understand what you meant, about why you and the Misfits sleep the way you do. I mean, I understood before, but after last night, _I get it_ get it."

Mason seemed pleased. "Maybe we can have another slumber party sometime."

It surprised Beth by how ardently she wanted that.

Minutes passed as they watched the stars wink, and then Mason sighed.

"Look, I know I'm not technically supposed to talk about the council meetings until they're ready to share it with the rest of you," she began. "And I already know what you're going to say anyway. But I'm really kind of getting shit tired of secrets and I trust you, so I just wanted you to know that it's possible the Wolves attacked yesterday because they wanted to capture me, and part of me wonders if things would be easier for the rest of you if I just gave myself to them."

Beth stared in shock. It took her a moment to absorb all of this, long enough that Mason glanced up nervously, tapping her feet.

"They all said no," she went on. "And I know I should wait to see if the plan we have now works, because I have people back home who depend on me, too, but…"

"How do you know they wanted to capture you?"

So Mason launched into her story, explaining what the Wolves had said during their confrontation, and her time spent with the snake cult in Arkansas.

"Wait, but…if they wanted you all along, why did they attack us first?"

"That's exactly what Michonne said. And I honestly don't have an answer for it. I just know they were given orders to take me alive."

Cold seeped through Beth's veins. If these sadistic monsters got a hold of Mason, what would they do with her? _To _her?

Her hands balled into fists. It wasn't going to happen. She wouldn't let it.

"Well…no matter what, you know you can't give yourself to them, right?"

Mason moved her head silently, but it wasn't exactly a nod.

"You _can't_. You said yourself, you've got people to look out for in the Kingdom. Besides, we would never let you. I meant what I said before. You're family now. We protect our family."

Something like anguish twisted Mason's expression. Impulsively, Beth wrapped her arms around Mason, tucking her face into the crook of her neck.

"Please. I know. You're tryin' to save the whole damn world, but I can't stand it if you leave again."

Mason didn't respond at first and Beth was afraid to look at her face. But slowly, muscle by muscle, she relaxed. She wrapped an arm around Beth's waist, pulling her closer. Her left hand sought Beth's and squeezed tight.

"I'm not trying to save the whole world," Mason said. "Just the best things in it."

"Well, you're one of those things, okay? So that means you have to protect yourself, too."

Beth finally looked up. Her hair caught in Mason's, they were so close. She could count the stars reflected in Mason's eyes.

Her heart thundered.

"I want you to stay this time, Mason. Please."

She whispered the words just inches from Mason's mouth. She felt Mason's breath on her lips and a deep flame shivered down her spine.

"Beth." Mason pressed her forehead to Beth's and closed her eyes.

Then she sighed and kissed her cheek.

"I'm not going anywhere."

Disappointment washed through her, but she understood. Mason still wasn't ready, and that was okay. She'd just gotten a little carried away.

"I'm sorry, Beth."

"Don't be."

Mason squirmed a little, like she meant to disentangle herself. "Should I…do you want me to leave?"

"No."

They squeezed each other tighter till the embarrassment melted away. It was only when her eyelids began to droop that Beth suggested they head inside. They climbed back through the window, but Beth paused by her bed.

"Look, I know you don't want…um." She couldn't bring herself to say it; she just kept thinking of their time on the bus, that first kiss, the first time they tried to… She shook her head. "But that doesn't mean no cuddlin', right? I mean, we did last night, after all. We…we could have another slumber party right now, just the two of us."

Her face burned. The words made her feel silly. What were they, twelve?

But Mason smiled, clearly relieved, and said, "I'd like that."

Beth scooted over so Mason could join her on the bed. Mason wrapped her arms around her and pulled her close, and Beth snuggled against her chest, smiling when Mason rested her chin on her head. She was so warm.

The rhythm of her heartbeat lulled Beth to sleep.

**A/N: Alright, so there were some shameless Vine references, and I probably should apologize for those, but... Honestly I've just been rewatching them so much recently to try and block out the world for a bit, so I had to add them. Anyway, I wanted to post this yesterday because it was Bisexual Awareness Day and so many of my characters are bisexual disasters (some of whom have not been revealed yet...), I just thought it was fitting lol Anyway, thank you so much for reading. Until next time, much love xoxo**


	17. Aawake at Night

**A/N: Hello, all. So I'm actually pretty excited about this chapter because, while it's sort of lighthearted overall, there are quite a few little plot points and interactions that I've wanted to write for a while. The chapter song is "Aawake at Night" by half-alive which is...a song that is very dear to me personally, but also such a perfect song for Mason, Eugene and Beth. I thought it fit well here, since things get a little introspective. Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing, it really means the world to me. Hope you enjoy.  
**

17\. Aawake at Night

Sunlight lit the dust motes in cell block C, casting everything in a tint like an old photograph. Eugene smiled at a man he knew he'd never met, yet when he opened his mouth, the name came to him instinctively.

"Good morning, Hershel."

"Morning, Eugene. Off to the garden?"

"That is correct."

"Well, it's a fine day for it. You see any tomatoes, you be sure to save one for me. I already claimed first one of the season."

He passed Michonne, Carol and Renee on their way to breakfast. Beth waved to him where she sat with Tanner on the steps to the catwalk, trying to solve a Rubik's cube. It was a strange and peaceful collage of Kingdom and Alexandria, at home in this place he'd only ever heard of from his group. It made him feel a little dizzy, but his feet carried him without pause to a cell at the end of the row.

A sheet mottled with stars and galaxies hung in the doorway. He paused and cleared his throat.

"May I come in?"

"Eugene!" came the cheerful response. "Of course! I'm just having my monthly ceremonial orgy."

His lips twitched as he pushed past the curtain. He leaned against the wall, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness; the only light came from a lamp in the corner, by which Mason was lying on her stomach, scribbling like mad in her poetry notebook.

"Terribly indecent of you, Miss Reynolds," he remarked.

She didn't reply at first, too busy getting whatever idea it was onto paper. But when she finally looked up, she beamed.

"Actually, I was being polite. We take walk-ins so I thought you might want to join in."

She winked. He grinned back.

And the vision faded.

Slowly, Eugene blinked awake, reassessing his surroundings and trying to remember where the hell he was.

Alexandria. Right.

He huffed a breath. These dreams were getting out of hand.

Of course, it wasn't as if some of them weren't _enjoyable_, but they were so vivid and complex, they kept waking him up. Not like his usual dreams at all but like—

_Memories._

No. Not that. That was ridiculous. How could he remember something that never happened?

Whatever their cause, they did not provide a restful environment conducive to a good night's sleep. And so he was fucking tired.

Still, he rolled out of bed, glared at his surroundings as though they had personally wronged him, and headed to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

He had to do everything carefully to avoid damaging the bandages on his face and arm. Showering was a trick and a half but he pulled it off. Going on a week since the attack, and Denise said he was healing up as expected. His eye was completely better. Still, it wasn't entirely good news.

"I'm sorry," she'd said. "The burns were bad enough, that…you'll probably have permanent scarring on your face."

He wasn't sure how to feel about that, so he tried not to think about it at all. Thinking about it made him think about other things. Lukewarm bathtubs, cigarette embers, his mother. And all of that was intolerable. His brain cycled back on anything else—the mental inventory of ammo he kept, his future ambitions for the metal shop, how his people were healing up. Even the dreams, impractical as that was.

And Mason. Even when he tried not to, even when he needed to focus on other pressing matters.

Maybe she was the cause of his dreams. It was a silly hypothesis, but…objectively, there were some facts to back it up. They'd only started after he met her, and she was the one consistent thing about all of them. No matter the change in time or scenery.

He supposed it was only logical she be as prominent in his dreams as his waking thoughts. He'd often heard that people falling in—

No. Nope. He didn't think he was brave enough to go there yet.

Besides, that didn't explain the stranger details. Yes, he'd often heard about the prison from Daryl and Beth and Glenn and Michonne, but that didn't mean he knew for certain what it looked like. That didn't mean he could paint out every last dusty corner and yellowed window without ever having seen them. His dreams had never been vivid like this before.

And the people. He'd never had the pleasure of meeting Beth's father, Hershel. He heard a lot about him from her, but it wasn't as if she had any pictures to put a face to those stories. He'd also never had the displeasure of meeting Daryl's brother, Merle, but he'd seen him in dreams, too. Their faces so consistently clear and familiar, as though he really had known them.

He didn't know why the dreams bothered him so much. It wasn't as simple an answer as a lack of decent sleep. No matter the conclusions he came to, they were never satisfying, and he hated leaving things open-ended. It made him anxious.

_You're just trying to distract yourself._

Well, he knew that was true, at least. It wasn't as if the waking world of late felt particularly _welcoming_…

Daryl waited for him downstairs. "Y'look like shit," he said, offering Eugene a steaming mug.

"Always so tactful." Eugene sniffed the mug and blinked. "Is this tea?"

"Mason said it was good for wakin' you up, or whatever. Ginger and rooibos…or some shit." Daryl shrugged. His eyes softened as he looked Eugene up and down. "Figured you could use it."

"I very much can. Thank you, Mr. Dixon."

Daryl's cheeks reddened and he shrugged again, glancing at his feet. "Yeah… Well, c'mon. Let's grab the others."

~m~

After almost a week, it no longer surprised Beth to wake and find Mason had already left. With a sigh, she rolled out of bed to meet her in the infirmary.

As one of the regulars in Eugene's ammo crew, Beth was granted a leave of absence from her usual duties, though she always checked in the morning and at night to make sure she wasn't needed.

She usually wasn't. Mason cleared it with Ezekiel to have Renee sent to Alexandria for the time being, to take some of the strain off of Denise. Since Rosita and Enid already spent a good amount of time assisting her as well, there were plenty of hands on deck.

Beth paused braiding her hair in the bathroom. The mirror was still fogged up from her shower, casting her reflection in a ghostly halo. She felt strange and she couldn't put a finger on why. With everything going on, she supposed that was only normal, but she didn't think that was all of it.

Her eyes drifted to the scar on her wrist. She could still feel Mason's lips there. She could still hear Mason saying, "I've got you, beautiful, don't worry."

They'd slept in each other's arms every night, just like they had on the bus. It didn't always guarantee peaceful dreams for Mason; Beth woke to her twitching and muttering on more than one occasion. But Beth was always there to hold her tighter until the shuddering subsided.

They'd come so far, and yet in some ways it still felt like they were back there on that bus, lost and hiding.

She brushed a finger over the scar. She wondered if Dray could put a tattoo there, when all this mess was over.

As expected, she found Mason in the infirmary, talking books with Eric, Olivia and Noah. She spent a lot of her free time like this. Humming softly to Tyreese, who slept fitfully since the removal of the chest tube. Gabbing with Gabriel about his surprising love of horror movies. Keeping the snake victims entertained with stories to distract them from the discomfort because she "knew how much it sucked ass".

Beth paused in the entryway. It made her happy to see Mason getting along so well with her people, opening up to them where before she'd kept her distance. It was going to feel really weird when Mason went back to the Kingdom…

Her stomach twisted in a knot. Suddenly she knew why she felt so strange.

She was getting used to this. Having Mason around. But it wasn't going to last. Just like last time…

_Oh, stop. You're being dramatic._

It wasn't like Mason could just drop everything and come live in Alexandria. She didn't expect her to. But she couldn't deny the selfish part of her that wanted her to. She was tired of getting used to things and then having them taken away...

"Hey, Beth," Renee greeted her. "Here for your daily checkup?"

"Yeah. You need me for anythin'?"

Renee shook her head. "We're all good here. Rosita came in early to help so really all that's left is monitoring everyone. Thanks, though." Then she lowered her voice. "How's Mason doing?"

Beth glanced at Mason, laughing with Noah over something. "She _says _she's fine…"

"Right." Renee rolled her eyes. "We've been there before. Look, I know you and her have this…past. Mason listens to us Misfits more than most, but sometimes I think she tries to hide things from us _because _of that. So would you, like, try to get her to talk to Denise? I think she'd respond best if it came from you."

"Oh. Yeah, of course." She wasn't entirely sure Renee was right about Mason listening to her, however.

A few days ago, Denise had announced to the community that anyone that felt they needed to talk was welcome to come to her any time. Eugene and Beth had tried to nudge Mason to do so, but she'd refused, claiming she didn't want to bother Denise with everything else going on. And her reaction was such that they worried she'd shut them out completely if they pushed it. But…maybe she'd be more receptive now. Maybe a little time was all that was needed…

Frowning doubtfully, she approached Mason, who waved her hands excitedly at something Noah said.

"Dude, _right_? I'm _saying_! Like, I want the _vibe _of a young adult novel, but, like, about people my age. Books jump right from teenagers to adults in their forties lamenting their mortgages and failing marriages. I want twenty-somethings not knowing what the fuck is going on."

"So…books about you?" Eric grinned cheekily.

"Exactly!"

"Uh, books about both of us," Noah corrected. "I _never_ know what the fuck is going on, so…"

Mason held her hand out for a high-five. "See? I feel like there's a huge target audience for that shit."

"Well, why don't you write it?" Olivia asked.

"Yeah, you're a writer, aren't you?" Noah said. "You should totally do it. No one's around to tell you you can't."

"Only if we get to be characters, though," Eric added.

Mason chuckled. There was a self-conscious edge to the sound, but Beth figured she was the only one who knew her well enough to hear it.

"Maybe. I don't know. I haven't written in a while."

"Well, if you ever decide to," Beth jumped in, "I wanna be a professional singer. And a dragon-tamer. And I want pink hair."

"Done, done and done." Mason got to her feet. "Alright, guys, I'll see you later. Don't have too much fun expelling snake venom from your bodies through nausea and sweating without me!"

Eric groaned. Olivia rolled her eyes. Noah flipped her off with one hand and waved her away with the other.

"Thanks for reminding us."

They met up with Daryl and Eugene on the way to the gate, accompanied by the rest of the day's crew—Dray, Charlie, Lily, Tara and Carl.

"Morning, crew," Eugene greeted them. "As stated yesterday, I believe it is prudent we dedicate a good chunk of our time at present to sniffing out possible sources of lead and copper. Bronze if we can get our mitts on it. Now, cards on the table, I cannot recommend any categorical wellsprings with certainty, but I have some leads."

"Ha. Nice one," Mason said. The Misfits groaned; the sound was one of long-suffering.

Eugene's deadpan expression stayed put, but his eyes warmed. "Thank you, it was absolutely on purpose. Prospective locations have been mapped out, but as some of them are within the Kingdom's terrain and therefore more familiar to them, I elect the Misfits to navigate."

"Oh, yeah, sure, just have us do all the work for you," Charlie said, elbowing Eugene before she and Dray claimed the front seats of their truck. Everyone else piled in where they could; Mason, Daryl, Eugene and Beth ended up in the cargo bed.

"You just don't like bein' in charge," Beth teased as they drove through the gate.

Eugene shrugged. "Not particularly."

Mason's brow furrowed. "But you're so good at it."

Which was true, Beth had to admit. Eugene had a natural talent for delegating and instructing. At least, when one gave him the chance to be good at it.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "But that does not mean I enjoy it."

Beth frowned. She suspected that had a lot more to do with the fact he felt he _shouldn't _be telling people what to do. That he had no right to, no matter his aptitude or qualifications. And she was willing to bet _that _had everything to do with his lie and all the harm it caused.

"I get that," Mason said. "There's things I'm good at that I don't have a fun time being good at."

Something dark moved behind her eyes, just the briefest glimpse, before she shook her head.

"Well, hey, do you at least like being the best bullet-maker in the new world?" She elbowed him. "_I _think it's pretty badass."

His lips twitched. "Well…I suppose I cannot disagree with you there. And, yes, I do enjoy it on a certain level. I like the challenge. And I have always been partial to working with my hands."

He fell silent for a moment. Beth couldn't figure out what was going on behind his thoughtful expression.

"You know, Miss Reaper, I have been thinking…"

"That you need to stop calling me that?" Mason grumbled. "You've got the whole damn place doing it. That fucking furry called me that yesterday when I was standing guard the other night."

Eugene grinned unapologetically. "I am very sorry."

"Shut up, Porter, you fucking liar."

"No, what I have been wondering is what might be an appropriate name for your scythe."

"An appropriate name for… _What_?"

"Well, by all accounts, it has been blooded now. It has seen combat. All good weapons deserve a name after their first battle." He paused. "I thought perhaps Wolfsbane."

Beth's eyes went wide. "Whoa, that's perfect!"

"I thought so." Eugene held his hand out for a fist bump.

"What about her fire iron though?" Daryl asked.

"I was unable to spark up the perfect one."

"Wait—spark!" Beth exclaimed. "What about Spark?"

"That ain't half bad."

"Hold it, hold it." Mason threw her hands out. "Are you guys serious right now? Really?"

"Well, Mason, you're from the _Kingdom_," Beth said. "Y'all literally call Ezekiel 'king'—"

"No, no, no. I mean, are you seriously considering naming my poker _Spark_? That sounds like the name of a yappy little terrier. 'C'mere, Sparky, time to impale some walkers'. Uh-uh. No way."

"Aw, c'mon, Sparky," Beth teased, poking Mason in the side. "Don't get all fired up about it."

"Hey, listen up, sunshine. _I'm _the pun master around here, okay?"

"How 'bout Prick?" Daryl drawled, eyes sparkling when Mason glared at him.

"I'm not naming my poker after you, either."

They carried on the entire drive, tossing out names not only for Mason's weapons but each other's. So inevitably the titles dissolved into puns and insults. They laughed more than they had in days. Weeks, probably. And Beth tried not to think too hard about how natural it felt, how easy and simple and _right_.

Tried not to think too hard that it wouldn't last.

~m~

Their first stop was a large thrift shop. Charlie suggested they start at the most southerly place on the map and work their way back toward Alexandria, and Eugene agreed this was probably best. No one was psyched to spend so much time so far from home, but it had to be done.

They split into groups of twos once inside, although there was a brief moment of awkwardness when Eugene and Beth both turned to choose Mason.

Her eyes went wide, flicking between the two of them.

"Oh. Um."

Daryl snorted in disgust. "Fuckin' Christ…Beth, you're with me. C'mon."

Eugene threw him a grateful glance. Daryl just rolled his eyes.

They bypassed the clothes section for a row labeled "knickknacks", which really turned out to be a bunch of crap Eugene couldn't imagine anyone actually buying. But everything was old, which was a good sign. They began picking things up, weighing them and testing them out.

"Hmm. If I were to get this entire work of art tattooed on my back, what would you think?" Mason asked and held up a picture frame.

It was the silhouette of a woman splayed dramatically toward the night sky, with an instantly-recognizable quote scrawled across the bottom. Well. Almost recognizable.

"Shit for the moon," it read. "Even if you miss, you'll land among the stars."

He snorted so loud Mason jumped.

"_What_…_what the…fresh…fuck_…"

But the laughter garbled his words, which got Mason laughing, too, until they were both doubled over, wheezing desperately.

"Miss Reaper," he finally attempted, wiping tears from his eyes. "I will literally give you anything your heart desires if you get that tattooed somewhere on your person."

"Awesome! I've always wanted anything my heart desires." She propped the picture up against a cherub statue. "You know, in all seriousness, I do really want to get another tattoo, but I'm not sure what."

His mind conjured up things it automatically associated with her—gardens and hands creased with soil, dewdrops refracting the morning light, symmetry in a mirror, an abundance of stars. He didn't suggest any of them. Who the fuck did he think he was, a poet?

"I believe I have conveyed a similar hankering to you at a previous time," he said instead.

"Yeah, that's right. Except you said you were scared of needles." She frowned. "But…Beth said you used to help out in the infirmary."

"Exposure therapy. And I suppose…" He suppressed a shiver. "It stands to reason that if I am to stare that particular fear in the face, it may as well be through an artistic mean I have long desired anyway." He sighed. "It's rough out here for an almighty chickenshit."

"Dude, tell me about it." She held her hand out for a high-five but Eugene just glared at her.

"You don't fit that qualification. I have literally witnessed your blatant disregard for your own personal demise."

"What, you think just because I'm willing to _die_, it automatically makes me _brave_?"

As soon as the words were out, she pulled back a bit, like she'd said too much. And once more, Eugene thought about those intolerable things—water running cold, blood on stark-white tile and his mother, his mother, his mother.

He swallowed hard.

Mason cleared her throat. "Hey. Let's play a game. I mean, if you want. I'll tell you one of my fears, and you tell me one of yours. You don't have to explain them or anything. And if you opt out, you can just…give me a tattoo idea instead."

She smiled tentatively, and…he thought maybe she needed to say certain things. Certain things that weren't _everything_. But just enough to feel lighter, for a while.

He thought maybe he needed to say some things, too.

So he nodded, and continued their search while he waited for her to go first.

"Alright," she said, picking up a tarnished jewelry box. "So one of my fears…is making small talk. And I mean, like, literally. I wasn't lying when I told you I had terrible social anxiety. Okay. Your turn."

He stared at the metal candle holder in his hand, barely seeing it, and then murmured, "Blood pressure cuffs."

He didn't have to look at her to sense her surprise. But she didn't pry for answers, not a single one, and he was eternally grateful for that.

"Okay, another one of mine is falling from someplace really high. Jeff—my dad, I mean…forced me to go on a rollercoaster when I was seven and ever since I've hated that weird feeling you get in your stomach, you know?"

"Yes, ma'am, I know the feeling."

Mason hardly ever talked about her father, but what little she'd revealed was enough to convince Eugene that he would not have liked him.

But he didn't ask questions, either.

"Water," he responded. "I will admit, it took me a while to get over that one, but now I am happy to report that I swim like a fish."

They carried on back and forth while they searched for viable metals, piling whatever he approved in a shopping cart. Mason said, "School presentations," so Eugene replied, "Reaching into dirty dishwater and touching some unknown material." Mason said, "Any medicine that makes you drowsy," so Eugene replied, "The sound of keys unlocking your door."

When Mason said, "Getting pregnant," it startled him so much that he blurted out, "Cigarettes," without thinking. He hadn't intended on disclosing that one.

"Matter of fact, that is why, well…that is the sole reason that I started up smoking in the first place," he admitted, rubbing his arm. "To conquer the…aversion."

"Wait, you _smoke_?"

"Not anymore. I only partook long enough to get over my fear of them. I cannot claim to enjoy the taste. I also cannot deny it was more of a mountain to climb to quit than I expected, but…it worked, in the end."

Which was good, because Daryl smoked quite a bit, and Eugene didn't need to dissolve into a cold sweat every time he lit up.

He expected Mason to go on, but when she looked up after a moment, it was to say, "So…do you smoke _other _things?"

He pretended to be shocked but it didn't fool her. She grinned.

"Miss Reynolds. Are you referring to the devil's lettuce?"

"Maybe…"

"Because that stuff will damn your eternal soul. Ever heard of reefer madness? Look it up. Educate yourself."

She cackled. "Okay, I'm definitely smoking with you sometime. C'mon, I bet there's better stuff in the back."

~m~

Beth could not stop focusing on the scar on her wrist. She rubbed her finger back and forth along it, pretending it was someone else's skin, pretending she was painting over it with flowers.

It was several hours since arriving at the workshop. She sat on the roof, keeping watch with Tara, Mason, Lily and Daryl. Eugene was still inside, melting the day's finds with the rest of the crew. It was late by the time they finished their search with enough viable metals to call it a successful venture, but no one wanted to head home yet.

"We're already out here," Lily said. "I don't really feel like dragging my ass back and forth _again_ to get done what we could while we're, you know, _already out here_."

Eugene had agreed easily. Beth had a feeling everyone was antsy to get this part of their prep work done, so they could move onto the next stage of retaliation against the Wolves. It wasn't as if anyone was thrilled by the delay. Waiting to have enough ammo, waiting for everyone to get their strength back. Waiting for the Wolf to heal enough to question him properly.

The good news was that a significant portion of the patients were close to leaving the infirmary. The Wolf was another story. He was awake now, but according to Denise, he was still at risk of slipping into a coma if any more stress was put on his body. Which everyone was undeniably frustrated about.

No one mentioned any of this but Beth could tell they were all thinking it when they radioed Alexandria to let them know they'd be staying overnight at the workshop.

"…And this chick really said, 'Oh, you're not a _gold star _lesbian? Then you're not a _real _lesbian'. Like?" Tara, sitting on the opposite side of the roof with Mason and Lily, waved her arms in exasperation. "So _I _said, 'You ate meat as a kid, right? Guess you're not a _real _vegetarian'."

Mason snorted. "What an asshole."

"Miss me with that crapolio," Lily said.

"Yeah… But! Doesn't matter now, right? Because, you know, Denise." Tara smiled, her eyes taking on a dreamy glow.

"So you guys met after everything?" Mason asked.

"Yep. You know, I didn't even _see _her the first few weeks after we arrived in Alexandria, she was so shy. But oh my god, when I did…"

Beth glanced back at her wrist, trying not to feel like she was eavesdropping. She knew they wouldn't mind if she hopped into the conversation. She would've liked to, but for some reason she felt awkward about it.

It wasn't just that she couldn't relate to the stories they were telling, the past relationships, coming out to their friends before the fall. It was…seeing them talk about that stuff with the confidence of people who had figured all of it out. That had been afforded the luxury of time to do so, at least more than she'd had.

They just seemed to know who…they _were_. As people. Even Mason, with everything she struggled with, everything she kept hidden, she still knew who she was. And Beth didn't understand that.

She couldn't remember a time when it felt like she truly knew herself. Growing up, she thought she was cheerful, happy. She thought she would sing and sit in the sun and laugh with her friends and be the perfect daughter, perfect sister, perfect wife.

When the dead started walking, she felt like stained glass. Fragile from the lie her life felt like before. Fragile, but with the potential for hope again. To let in the color, the light.

When they lost the prison, she made herself into an empty vessel. No tears, no saltwater. Something to fill with memories and nothing more, something that was meant only to keep going, keep going, keep going.

When she woke up in Grady, she wanted to be a pile of thorns. Ripped from her roots but still able to defend herself, still able to make the world bleed. Untouchable, punishing.

When they made it to Alexandria, she felt like a house, lived in and abandoned and lived in and abandoned, over and over and over. Little things left behind by parts of herself she no longer recognized. Dust and dreams and desires she didn't know how to act on.

She realized now that she'd never stopped feeling that way. Even with Maggie and Gracie and Glenn, even with Daryl and Eugene. Even with Mason. She didn't know who she was anymore.

And so it felt strange, everything felt strange. She didn't want Mason to leave. She didn't want the Wolves or anyone else to attack anymore. She wanted her people to live and be happy. She wanted things to stop changing so she could figure everything out. She wanted the how, why, where of her place in all this. She wanted time to know who she was.

Entrenched as she was in her thoughts, Daryl's short little sigh made her jump.

"Gon' bring down every walker in the state if they don't stop cacklin'," he muttered.

She eyed him tentatively, trying to figure out what had him so grumpy. They weren't really being all that loud. He didn't catch her scrutiny; he glared at the three of them with a complicated expression before looking at his feet. Beth knew him well enough to see the longing in his face, like he wanted to join them as much as she did, and suddenly it made sense.

She opened her mouth to say something—but what could she possibly say? That she understood, because she'd felt the same way when her friend, Tammy, came out? When she started dating who she wanted to date, when other people knew the truth?

She wasn't oblivious. She saw the way Daryl looked at Eugene. At first she'd thought she was imagining it—he'd started out absolutely loathing Eugene, after all. But she knew Daryl better than most. And she did understand pretty intimately his position.

But it wasn't her place to say anything. Whether he'd accepted these feelings or not, she had no right to push him on it. Besides, she may have come to terms with her own sexuality, but that didn't mean she wasn't confused as all hell about, well, everything. Considering that, she didn't think she was the best person to be handing out advice at the moment.

Still, she wished there was a way to convey that no one here would judge him, that it was safe for him to talk to her about it…

At that point, Eugene came up to tell them they were about ready to switch groups. Beth got to her feet, casting one last glance at Daryl before convincing herself to let it go. He'd be ready when he was ready, if he ever was.

"Hey."

Mason appeared at her side, smiling and reaching for her hand. Beth's stomach fluttered a little as she took it.

"Hey. Ready to start assemblin' some bullets?"

"Yeah, uh, in a sec. I just wanted to say something."

"Oh. Somethin' wrong?"

"No, no. I mean, not exactly. I just…" Mason rubbed her free hand across the back of her neck. "I know I already apologized for everything that went down in Georgia, but I don't think I specifically apologized for, like, not being there."

Beth shook her head. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, not being there when you…told everyone. Beth, I'm so sorry I didn't stick around to have your back, help you through things. I went through that on my own before I met the Misfits, so I know how shitty it can be."

"Oh." Beth felt the old familiar sting but refused to let it sharpen her tone. "I got through it. Everyone was real understandin', so I lucked out. Even my dad."

He was the one she'd most feared telling. Even though she knew he loved her, even though she knew he was a tolerant man.

But all he'd said was, "Bethy. If this is who you are, I'm happy just knowin' you're on the road to embracing it. You can't live your life denyin' a part of yourself. That's a miserable existence. No matter what you learn about yourself, no matter who you love, I'll always love you. You'll always be my little girl."

She wondered what he'd make of her now. If he'd be proud. If he'd know how to guide her.

"I do wish you could've met him, though," she said softly. "I think he would've really liked you."

Mason squeezed her hand. "I wish I could've met him, too."

Beth closed her eyes briefly, letting the pain pass. "Anyway. You're here now. You have my back, and I have yours."

"Always. And, you know, since I'm here now, if you ever need to talk… I mean, about anything. You know I'm always here, right?"

"Of course."

Beth examined Mason's face. Despite the awkwardness of bringing up the past, she seemed pretty relaxed. She wondered if maybe now might be a good time to follow through on Renee's request.

"Actually…um." A wave of nervousness swept over her.

Mason raised an eyebrow. "What's up?"

"Well. Okay. So. You know…I'm always here if you need to talk, too. Right?"

"Yeah, I know."

"And, you know that I'm happy to listen. Really, I am. But…maybe it would help you talkin' to someone else? I mean, someone who actually knows how to help you through it. Um, professionally."

Mason pulled back with a frown. "What?"

"Well, Denise… You know, she _did _offer to talk if anyone needed to. She's really understandin' and more than qualified, and maybe…she could help you work through some things."

"What do I need to work through?"

She winced at Mason's tone, so cold and flat it was barely a question. It reminded her of the way Mason used to be, before she learned to trust her. But she persevered.

"Mason, I know you're strugglin'. You don't sleep well and you're havin' nightmares. And you…just went through somethin' really traumatizin'."

"I've gone through a lot of traumatizing shit. Never needed a therapist before," Mason growled. "Besides, we're _all_ in the same boat. Why are you singling me out?"

"I'm not tryin' to, I'm just… We've all had access to counselin' since comin' to Alexandria. But you don't have that at the Kingdom, right? And a lot of us have talked to Denise and it's really helped! Morgan and Michonne and Sasha…"

"I can't. I'm not doing it."

"But, Mason, there's…you know there's nothin' to be ashamed of, right?"

"She is correct, Miss Champion," Eugene said, ducking his head when Mason turned her glare on him. "My apologies, it was not at all my intention to overhear. But...I cannot stand by the wayside and withhold my concerns for you when I might have the capacity to help."

"Goddammit, stop!" Mason snapped. "Stop being concerned, both of you! I'm fine!"

"Miss Reynolds. You are our friend. We would not put halt to our concern even if we were able."

"We just want you to be happy," Beth insisted.

"You know what would make me happy? Not talking about this again. Ever."

She turned without another word and slid down the ladder to ground level. Beth shared a distressed glance with Eugene but neither knew what to say.

"Guys. You coming?" Tara called.

Eugene sighed. "Yes, ma'am."

Beth followed him down from the roof, stomach churning with guilt and worry.

~m~

The bullet building shift passed like molasses. Mason worked alongside Beth and Eugene stiffly, not speaking unless she had to. She wasn't trying to be a bitch, she just genuinely didn't trust what she might say.

There was so much building behind her chest, a wall cloud twisting with the pain of needing to break.

Talking to Denise was…probably the smart thing. The reasonable thing. It wasn't as if she didn't like or trust Denise; she was kind and capable and Mason didn't doubt her skill in psychiatry. Plus the thought of lancing herself open, releasing the pressure, was unreasonably appealing.

But it wasn't Denise she owed honesty to. At least, as much honesty as she could spare without going back on the entirety of her vow.

Four hours later, their shift ended. It was getting late enough that the group began determining how they might fit sleep shifts into the rotation.

Without meeting anyone's gaze, Mason turned to Beth, Daryl and Eugene.

"I'm sorry. Are you guys too tired to take this watch shift?"

They glanced at each other, clearly wondering about her dull, cautious tone.

"Nah," Daryl finally said. "We're good."

She nodded. "I'll meet you on the roof then."

The night was still and heavy, the kind of night that would have conjured heat lightning back in Kansas. She looked up, expecting to see stars, but there were none. Clouds must have moved in while they worked.

She tried not to think too hard about what she was about to do, so the fear stayed a vague and unsettled fog in her belly. She didn't want to talk herself out of it any longer.

This wasn't her friends' burden. She didn't want it to be. But she also knew that they deserved the truth, that they needed to know who she was. Beth, Eugene, Daryl…they were so important to her, she didn't want anything but honesty and understanding between them.

When they met her on the roof, she was sitting with her legs crossed, head tipped toward the dark sky, breathing in the summer air.

"I'm sorry," she said as they formed a circle with her. She addressed Beth and Eugene specifically. "That was really shitty of me, what I said earlier. It means a lot, how much… I mean, I know you're just worried about me. I shouldn't flip out on you like that."

"It's alright, Mace," Beth murmured and she tried not to flinch at the nickname.

"Truly, we do understand," Eugene said.

"Well, I appreciate that, but it doesn't give me any excuse to take things out on you. I mean, you…you guys are some of my best friends now."

Beth smiled and reached across the circle to touch her hand. "You're our best friend, too."

Mason nodded, and it was quiet for a moment while she decided where to start.

"Well…in the spirit of that, then, I…" She looked down. "I heard what you said before. But I don't want to talk to Denise."

"But—"

"At least, not yet," she carried on quickly. "I—I probably will at some point, because I know you guys are right. She's a professional, she knows how to handle this kind of stuff. But I want you all to hear this first. I think…I would feel better, if you knew. If it's okay."

She paused questioningly, silently asking permission. They nodded for her to continue.

"There's something that I haven't been completely transparent about," she explained. "And there's reasons for that, but… I'm so sick of keeping the full story from you guys. I trust you all with this part of me. I want you to know it."

Daryl and Eugene seemed to know where this was going, but Beth clearly didn't have a clue. It wasn't lost on Mason that, since Beth was not a part of the council, she hadn't been privy to the same things Daryl and Eugene knew.

She held Beth's gaze. "You asked once, what happened to me after I left you," she said. "I didn't just find Ava's family. I didn't just find the Kingdom, either, I…helped establish it. I was there with the rest of them when we bled for it."

For a moment, she heard Ezekiel's voice in her head.

_You bring these strangers around, pledge yourself to them, tell them shit we bleed and sacrifice for every day to keep from our own people?_

But they weren't strangers anymore. Things were different now. They were…they were her people, too.

"I told you that we lost some of Ava's family fighting for this place, but it wasn't just a fight. There was a war. Before all this. Before the gardens and the happy little breakfasts, before we were ever in any position to help anyone."

Beth blinked. "A…war?"

Mason nodded, recognizing that this was where things were going to get tricky. She didn't plan on holding anything back…

Not anything, except the most far-reaching facet, the most brutal, suffocating detail.

"Enough of us survived to keep the Kingdom going, but none of us call it a victory. We lost…" She swallowed. "We lost more than we thought we would. And when it was over, those of us left…we all made a vow. That anyone that joined us afterward would never find out. We'd never tell them about the war, we'd never tell them that the people we fought were still around. So that they'd never be tempted to seek revenge."

She glanced at each of them in turn.

"And…now that I'm telling you this, that means you take that vow, too. You can never tell my people. You can never mention any of this to them, for any reason or circumstance. I need you to swear it."

They stared at her, grave and searching and wary of the story she had to tell.

"I swear," Eugene said.

Beth nodded. "I swear."

"Swear," Daryl grunted.

And she believed them. She trusted them.

"Thank you," she said. "I'm sorry I have to ask that of you."

"Just the way it is," Daryl replied. "You do what you gotta do for your people. We get it."

And she knew that was right. It was the only way she could do this.

And she could do this. She could.

"Alright."

She breathed shakily and mustered all the courage she was capable of.

"Here's everything I haven't told you."

**A/N: So after this, we are getting into the second interlude, which will delve entirely into Mason's past with the Saviors and how all of that played out. I've got a lot of cool stuff planned buuut... lol here's where I call myself out, because it was recently brought to my attention that there may have been a part of the last chapter that was misleading. I think my dumb ass may have made it sound like Gina and Mason's parents were involved with the Saviors, which I'm sorry to say isn't the case. Mason isn't aware Gina's still alive, and her parents died long before Mason met Negan. It was not at all my intention to muddy up the story like that, and I am so, so sorry for any confusion or disappointment this may have caused. I hope y'all can forgive the mistake. Thanks as always for reading, I truly appreciate you taking the time do so, and I hope you enjoyed. Until next time, much love xoxo  
**


	18. Just Movement

**A/N: Okay, guys, so we have got our first monster chapter. If you read the original series, you'll know I sometimes have a tendency to write super long chapters. I've been trying my best not to do that with this one, but there was so much that needed to be said in this one that the pacing would have felt off if I shortened it. So I apologize lol The chapter song is "Just Movement" by Robert DeLong, it's another one that sounds upbeat but kind of...isn't, and I felt it fit well here. Thanks so much to my readers and reviewers, y'all are truly the best! Hope you enjoy.  
**

18\. Second Interim, pt. 1: Just Movement

Mason swung her fire iron and jumped back, teeth bared in a fearsome snarl. It collided with a tree, mere inches from the stranger's face. He glared back, raising his axe.

Gunshots peppered the air somewhere nearby. Snow ghosted through the gray woods, carried on a bitter wind. She felt Ava crying into the back of her neck, trying to make herself as small as possible in the swaddle of Mason's cloak.

They shouldn't have come through this way. But they were so close to the mountain house, and this looked to be the straightest shot.

Mason opened her mouth to order the man back, but the words died on her tongue.

A taller man appeared through the swirling white, but it wasn't him that had the terror rising in her throat like bile.

It wasn't a tiger. She couldn't accept that the creature prowling at the taller man's side was a tiger.

She must have officially lost it.

But the creature looked solid and alarmingly real. Its eyes targeted her, wide and dark and predatory.

"Get—get back," she said in a trembling voice.

The first man shook his axe at her. "Where the hell is Negan?"

The question caught her off guard. She tried to sound more formidable this time, but the tiger was eyeing her like a happy little brunch time surprise.

"Who the fuck is Negan?"

"Don't play that bullshit with us, dude. You—"

"Jerry, wait."

The taller man held a hand out. Snow caught in his dreadlocks, adding to the silver in them. The tiger twitched when he moved, as though tied to the man by invisible string.

"My lady." Though he was clearly addressing her, it took her a minute to get past the medieval lilt to his voice. "Please lower your weapon."

"Fuck off."

"Hey." Jerry's eyes flashed, but the medieval tiger man held his hand out more firmly this time.

"Your consternation is understandable, but I give you my word no harm will come to you so long as things remain peaceable."

Mason glanced around doubtfully. Though she had yet to see where the gunfire was coming from, clearly nothing was peaceable at the moment.

"Please let us rely on words rather than rash actions," the man continued, and then slowly motioned toward himself. Blood dripped from a wound on his arm. "I am Ezekiel."

"_King _Ezekiel," Jerry corrected forcefully.

"Jerry."

"King?" Mason repeated quietly. "What is this, some…some sort of fucked up LARPing?"

"No, my lady. The melee around us is quite real." She couldn't doubt the gravity in Ezekiel's eyes. "Thus we are given to suspicion when presented with an unfamiliar hostility. Yet you say you know nothing of Negan."

"Yeah. Because I don't."

Ezekiel nodded. "Could you do me the honor of providing your name, my lady?"

It wasn't quite silent while she deliberated, but the wind dropped briefly, and Ava's wailing finally registered on them. Jerry and Ezekiel straightened in shock. The tiger flicked an ear but otherwise stayed unnervingly still.

Mason reaffirmed her grip on her iron. She couldn't figure how she would survive this but she had to, somehow. Ava clutched her fiercely, soaking her clothes with tears. Running was probably the best option, except that tiger could chase her down like it was nothing. Not to mention, even if she somehow escaped, others were out there somewhere, clearly eager to fill bodies with lead…

"You…carry a little one," Ezekiel said.

She kept quiet. Her leather gloves felt humid with sweat.

Jerry and Ezekiel exchanged a glance before Ezekiel reached for a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. She tensed, but he cautioned her with a look.

He pulled something from the bag and held it out. Her legs trembled, preparing to flee, until she saw what it was.

It was a can of peaches. An attempt to be peaceable. Perhaps even a promise to be. Apparently they believed her about not knowing whoever this Negan was, enough to offer her food.

Unless it was a trick. To get her to come closer. Or maybe the peaches were poisoned. Indecision burned in her stomach.

There were good people left, weren't there?

She rolled her weight from one foot to the other. A flurry of semiautomatic artillery had Ava cringing into her shoulder. Ezekiel's blood dripped onto the snow, an hourglass crawl counting down the approaching firefight.

There had to be. There had to be _some _good people left. Beth existed, after all.

Cat-quick, Mason snatched the can from Ezekiel and skittered back. The tiger rumbled but stood its ground next to him. Briefly, she examined the can. It wasn't homemade, no evidence of tampering or resealing. Still, she'd try it before Ava, just in case.

"Thank you," she growled unwillingly. "We're going now."

Ezekiel merely nodded, eyes flicking west, where the cacophony seemed thickest. "Perhaps that is best. Luck be with you, my lady."

But she hesitated. It had only been a week since leaving Beth. She'd tried not to think of her. But now, heart pounding with adrenaline, she couldn't stop.

Her own instincts told her to run, to get out no matter the cost. But Beth was a good person. A better person. Beth would've tried to help these men, no matter how small the effort.

"Fuck," she hissed and reached into the backpack hanging against her chest. She'd switched positions with it and Ava the moment she'd heard the first pop of gunfire.

Her fingers closed around a small roll of gauze. It was nearly gone, but it was better than nothing.

"Hey!" She tossed the roll at Ezekiel.

He blinked in surprise. "My heartfelt gratitude, but—"

"Yeah, you're welcome. Good luck with your…tiger and stuff."

She turned, and immediately ducked behind a tree, huffing a breath in fear and frustration.

Figures approached from the west, some fleeing, some pursuing. Her chance to run had come and gone. Her best bet now was to hide and pray this king could keep his mouth shut.

She hung her fire iron over her neck from its carrying cord, stowed the peaches in her pack, and with a powerful lunge, grabbed a sturdy branch above her head. She stuck to one side of the trunk as she scaled the tree, until she thought she was high enough the newcomers wouldn't see her.

"Macie," Ava whimpered.

Mason reached a hand over her shoulder, smiling tensely when she felt Ava grab hold with all the considerable strength in her tiny fingers.

"We gotta be quiet now, okay?" she urged.

Ava sniffled. "Hide-and-seek."

"That's right, baby girl."

She straightened her spine to balance herself and returned the iron to her grip. There were hardly any leaves left in the tree, but the branches crisscrossed thickly and her clothes were dark enough to blend in with the trunk. If she stayed still enough, she thought she had a good chance of remaining hidden.

The gunfire petered out as the first of the newcomers made it to Ezekiel and Jerry, three in all, features obscured by the hoods of their coats. Mason expected the fighting to continue below her feet, but instead they all gathered in a tight circle to face their pursuers.

Five more strangers slowed a few yards away. Mason's heart pounded but none of them looked up, too focused on their prey. In the distance, a few more guns sounded, though not as many as before.

Mason thought at first that Ezekiel's group must have the advantage. Their numbers were even people-wise, sure, but Ezekiel had a fucking tiger.

"You're fucked, your Highness," an older blond man sneered.

It became clear then from the way he and his group aimed their guns that they must have more firepower. Ezekiel's group must have used up all or most of their ammo. Her stomach twinged with unexpected anxiety.

She didn't want to see these people slaughtered. Ezekiel had helped her. But what the hell could she do? She couldn't risk Ava.

The tiger growled and the men stopped their advance. The one in front aimed his gun at the creature.

"Shut that fucker up, Zeke. Negan would love a tiger head mounted in his office."

"Shiva." Ezekiel's voice was soft, soothing, but his eyes burned. "Quiet now."

"It was the wrong day to fuck with us, huh? That little hole in the wall you rats were living in? All the shit inside? It's _ours _now. Whatever the hell we want, it's ours. You best take that to heart."

The blond man prowled closer, though the others stayed put, watching Shiva with trepidation.

"I'm thinking you owe us a little more for the trouble today," he continued. "So who's it gonna be?"

He reached for the closest person in Ezekiel's group, shaking them by the front of their coat. Their hood fell down, revealing their face.

A wave of shock nearly felled her from the tree. She heaved for breath but couldn't quite catch it, which was probably good, seeing as she was trying not to make a sound.

Dray.

It was Dray, it was _Dray_. Defiance twisted his features but they were _his _features, it was _him_.

"Let him go!" another in Ezekiel's group protested. And she recognized that voice, higher with fear but one she'd know anywhere.

"Dave," she whispered. Her head spun. She grabbed a thick branch and hoped she wasn't about to pass out.

"Easy, short stack." The blond man pressed the muzzle of his gun against Dray's chest. "I'll blow his fucking heart out the other side."

Panic quickened the blood in her veins. She had to do something. She had to do something.

Fingers fumbling, she dug the can of peaches from her bag. Then she eased the bag off her chest and slung it over her shoulders so that it covered Ava.

She grunted in protest. "Hebby."

"I know it's heavy," Mason whispered. "But it'll protect you, alright? Now I need you to curl up real tight, make yourself as small as you can. Remember the turtles? Show me your very best turtle impression."

This was Ava's favorite game, make-believing she was an animal. It was probably the only reason she listened to Mason now without a barrage of questions.

"See, you people are lucky. Lucky we want all the shit you have, and all the shit you're going to find," the blond guy said. "We _could _grease you all right here and be done with it. But. We want. Your shit."

He yanked Dray past him, forceful enough that Dray skidded to hands and knees. The other men surrounded him, kicking him when he tried to rise.

The blond man smiled. "So what's it gonna be? A few material possessions, some worldly crap you can't take with you anyway…or your lives?"

Her heart thundered. Her mind raced, trying to think of some better alternative. But there was none. She had to act, now.

Bracing her feet, she took aim. Then she tossed the can of peaches.

It hit the blond man square on the crown of the head, hard enough that he stumbled to the side. Mason retrieved her Oasis knife. She didn't trust her knife-throwing skills enough to attempt another sniper shot. So she gripped it tightly and jumped instead.

She fell right in the middle of Negan's men, toppling two of them like bowling pins. She resisted the urge to roll with the impact, and so it twisted her left wrist at an awkward angle and knocked the air from her lungs. Someone's elbow jabbed her neck, bringing tears to her eyes. She forced herself to recover quickly.

One man who managed to keep his footing glared down at her.

"What the fuck—"

He cut off with a howl as she ran her iron through his leg, just above his kneecap.

She scrambled back on all fours, plunged her knife into the stomach of a man she'd landed on. He groaned, blood leaking through his teeth.

Dropping the knife, dropping the iron, she seized his gun.

Without rising, she clamped the trigger down and turned in a wide arc, spraying lead into the winter air.

Negan's men fled. She downed one of them, but the blond man and the other one she'd landed on managed to dodge between the trees. The third twisted mid-step to return fire. She ducked behind the shelter of a thick pine, half-blind with terror. Ava screamed into her spine and Mason reached back to ascertain she was unharmed. She didn't feel any blood, no bullet holes in her pack.

She leaned around to take aim again, but the man was gone. An awful screeching sound went up to the west and then faded.

With trembling hands, she shrugged out of the backpack and freed Ava from her sling. She wailed, hands held tightly over her ears, but was otherwise perfectly unharmed. Mason choked on her relief.

She crushed her to her chest. "I'm so sorry, sweetie."

"Ma…_Mason_?"

She turned, shuddering with a peculiar wave of fear. Dray crouched a few feet away, eyes wide. Beyond him, Dave staggered, coughing out a weak sound of disbelief. The third figure pulled their hood down, shaking their head. Lily.

"_Mason_," Dray repeated. Tears cut a path down his cheeks.

She couldn't speak. She couldn't find words to return to them, to say _hello, I found you, after all this time_.

There were no words to say, _I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry._

She opened her mouth and a sob squeaked out. Before she could move, Dray scrambled toward her, his arms firm and warm, his whole body shaking. Then Dave and Lily were there, their arms around her like they would never let go, and she couldn't make sense of anything inside her. It wasn't relief and it wasn't fear and it wasn't happiness and it wasn't sorrow. It wasn't any of it, or maybe it was all of it.

Suddenly the warmth was a little too stifling, their arms a little too confining. She wriggled out of their embrace, blinking her blurry eyes.

They stared at her, and she was pretty sure they were still too preoccupied deciding if she was real to be hurt by this. Behind them, Jerry and Ezekiel tried not to gawk while they hurriedly tended his wound.

"Who…who's this?" Dray finally asked.

Mason tensed instinctively, cupping the back of Ava's head. She'd gone quiet, an ingrained reaction when encountering strangers.

When the silence stretched on, understanding dimmed the light in her Misfits' eyes.

A shout made them all jump. Everyone whirled into a defensive position as five silhouettes loped through the trees toward them. Mason ushered Ava back into her sling, climbed to her feet and sprang back, but by then everyone else had relaxed.

Her fingers went limp. She tried to swallow and couldn't.

She recognized four of the five newcomers. It felt like every ounce of courage she possessed drained out through her feet at the sight of them. She shook her hair out to obscure her face, tried to make herself appear small and insignificant.

Charlie. Renee. Dave's father, Scott, slouching the way he always did to soften his tall, imposing figure. Dray's father, Monty, blood glistening in his braids. The fifth man reported straight to Ezekiel, allowing the others a private moment to embrace each other, make sure they were all alright.

None of them had seen her yet. She had a chance. She had a chance to run, just like with Beth.

Except this time, that wasn't an option. She'd come all this way. She'd come all this way for Ava, for her Misfits. She had news to deliver and then after that, after she knew Ava was safe and with family…

"They got away?" Lily asked.

Monty nodded. He looked very tired. "Even with the back tire blown. Lit out of there like a banshee on that rim."

"Yeah, but we got two of them," Charlie said defiantly.

"Four," Jerry said, indicating the two men Mason took out.

"Dave, why are you crying?" Charlie demanded. Her knuckles strained around the handle of her knife, promising violence for the reason behind his tears.

"Um. Guys," Dray began tentatively. "We…have a visitor."

Dave wiped his eyes and pointed, and Mason felt her whole body go taut as piano wire as they all turned to her.

It was silent for an impossible moment. Renee was the first to speak.

"Holy fuck, _Mason_?"

"It's…it's me," Mason rasped. They were the first words she'd said to them, she realized.

"Oh, fuck, holy shit."

Renee strode forward and collided with Mason in a hug so fierce it nearly knocked her off her feet.

"We thought you were dead." She breathed this into Mason's collarbone. "We thought you were fucking dead. Oh my god. What happened? How the fuck did you find us?"

"I…" She paused to clear her throat. "I knew where you were going, remember?"

Renee laughed a little. Over her shoulder, Mason met Charlie's gaze. There were tears running down her face now, but the rest of her was frozen.

She didn't know how she was going to do this. She couldn't imagine the shape of the words.

"What about the others?" Renee pulled back. There was hope in her eyes. "Naomi? Nick?"

Mason swallowed, moved her lips. Nothing came out.

She stepped back. Her heart fluttered, trying to flee before the rest of her body.

"Are they dead?" Charlie asked. Beneath the tears, her expression was empty.

_Say something, you fucking coward. You owe them an explanation. You owe them words. _

Mason nodded, flinching when Dave let out a sob. "We got cornered in my old house. That herd…chased us inside. Broke down the door."

"But you got away." Charlie's voice cut her to bone.

"I—I managed to make a hole in the crowd, distracted the walkers with my blood. But Na…Naomi…wanted me to go first."

She undid Ava's sling and held her to her chest. Something moved behind Charlie's eyes but as always it was hard to read.

"She wanted me to get Ava out. She was too weak to walk, let alone carry her, and I'm…I'm the fastest."

In that moment, she wished she wasn't. She wished she wasn't fast, she wished she wasn't so good at running.

"Well," Charlie finally said, and her voice was as hard and desolate as midwinter, "at least you saved someone."

She turned and walked away without a second glance at Ava or Mason. Dray hurried after her. After a beat, the other Misfits followed, Lily with her arm around Dave's shoulder.

A ringing filled Mason's ears. She wanted to chase after them. She wanted to be there in their arms again, but instead she stood very still and waited to dissolve into the ground.

_Come back. I came back for you. Come back for me._

"Hey."

Monty approached her with a kind, sad smile, and all the emotion whirling her into numbness toppled her at the sight of his familiar face. She fell into his embrace without a sound.

The first one to figure out Mason was homeless, the first to offer her an actual room in an actual house, the first to offer to help with getting her GED. More a father to her than her real father could've hoped to be, if he'd ever hoped for that.

She didn't deserve to, but she felt safe in his arms.

"You finally grew that beard," she murmured into his chest.

His laughter rumbled against her cheek. "I wanted to look the part, you know? Apocalyptic mountain man."

Scott waited for her next, scooping her into a gentle, engulfing hug with his patented "I'm so glad to see you, dearie", except this time it was "I'm so glad you're safe, dearie".

It wasn't just her Misfits she'd missed. Scott and Monty. Scott's wife, Kelsey, with her fiery demeanor and eagerness to have fun. Monty's wife, Elisha, who painted Mason's nails and riffed on bad movies with Dray and was always a little overprotective.

She wanted to see them.

"Everyone else," she said. "Are they okay?"

Monty's expression crumpled. Something cold ran through Mason's chest.

Scott touched her arm and whispered, "We lost Elisha to a herd on our way here."

_No._

Not anyone else. She didn't want to be without anyone else.

A cry built in Mason's chest, but she stifled it. She reached for Monty's hand. Guilt rattled in her chest at the desolation in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry."

He ran his free hand down his face. Blinking back tears, he simply shook his head and said, "We should get you two somewhere you can rest up a bit."

Ezekiel and Jerry led them through the woods. Mason wondered where they were going. She was so tired. She couldn't imagine ever resting long enough to actually feel okay again.

Up ahead, too far to try to catch up to, the Misfits walked in a tight formation. Mason couldn't bear looking at them for too long. She found her eyes drawn to Shiva's impossible frame. A shiver of dread rolled down her spine at the muscles shifting beneath her pelt.

How the hell did Ezekiel have a tiger? How had her people met him in the first place? She wasn't sure she wanted to, unwilling to dredge up further unpleasant memories, but eventually she had to ask, "Can you tell me…what else happened?"

~m~

They made it to Virginia a year ahead of Mason, apparently. They lost Elisha along the way, and a handful of others Mason hadn't known quite as well. They also picked up new people along the way—Richard, the stranger fighting alongside them today, a scrappy old lady named Harriet, a doctor by the name of Ellis.

"Ezekiel and Jerry were the first people we met in Virginia," Monty said. "A few of us were out scouting during a storm, looking for better shelter than huddling in the woods. Decomps cut us off, nearly took us out. But then all we hear is this shout, and a roar that damn near shatters our eardrums. Shiva leaps out of nowhere, batting the dead away like they're nothing, and Ezekiel follows. Saved our lives and led us to a gutted gas station to shelter for the night."

"And why do you call him king? I mean, did he always…talk like that?"

"Yeah, he did. But it wasn't just that. And it wasn't just the tiger, or the tales his group—little at the time, maybe only ten of them—told us. About how he wrestled a dozen decomps off her and gained her trust. Or how they were hunting the same deer, side by side through the forest, and his skill earned her respect enough that she decided to team up with him. I don't think anyone knows the real story, but it wasn't the stories anyway.

"I remember seeing him illuminated that night by a lightning flash. As soaked as all of us and somehow looking all the more alive for it. He was holding his sword up, and I remember thinking he was about to get his ass charred by that lightning, but he never seemed afraid. Fear didn't touch him, and he drove those decomps back, rallying us as he did. That night convinced me he was someone worth following, and he hasn't proven me wrong."

Ezekiel's band of survivors were nomadic by necessity. They hadn't found a safe enough place to settle down yet, so the Misfits and their families offered refuge in the mountain house.

Renee's uncle, Jerry, wasn't there. From the frantic notes scribbled in a journal, they surmised he'd gone a little stir crazy in the solitude and ventured outside to search for survivors. He'd been gone six months. They kept an eye out for him but he never returned.

It was a tight squeeze, though the house was expansive, stretching deep into the side of the mountain. Wealthy doomsday prepper that he was, Jerry had stores upon stores of supplies, enough to last quite a while even with their numbers. Still, they rationed everything.

"We had enough to last us another year, easily, before we'd have to start thinking of reaching out for serious acquisition." Monty's expression darkened. "But three months after taking that inventory, and it's all gone. So is the mountain house."

Mason blinked. "What?"

"Negan's men, the _Saviors_. We'd had a few run-ins with them by then, and we knew they were a threat, but we didn't know how much. They came up to the house one night, with guns and firebombs, more of them than we'd ever seen before. Threatened to light the whole thing up unless we walked out and let them take it."

Mason's blood heated, itching in her arms and legs, itching for violence. It scared her that she'd never met these men before, at least aside from the few today, and already she wanted them dead.

"Some of us wanted to fight back. Ezekiel kept us calm, assured us that if we played the game now, we could live to fight another day. So we walked out."

Monty fell silent a moment. The ridge of his shoulders tensed.

"We got a few yards away from the house before they fired on us. Not all of us. Just those at the very back. We couldn't stay and fight, we had barely any weaponry on us. So we had to run. We had to leave our people behind."

It felt as though an arrow ran through her heart.

In her head there was only Gina's face, looking out that window, and something crashing in the bedroom before she disappeared forever. And running, through the dead, the desert, the mountains, the forests. A scenic slideshow of avoidance.

"We lost ten people that day," Scott said. "We lost our home. No food, barely any weapons… We weren't sure we were going to make it."

But they did. Miles out from the mountains, they came across a community. A community with a gate, with walls. Only five people inhabited it, but the inside was enormous, and the people more than willing to let in a large group.

They had a garden, and supplies, and livestock they were trying to breed. Two of the women were farmers and knew all the tips and tricks to sustainable living. It seemed a paradise after all they'd gone through.

"We knew it was a matter of time before Negan's men found us," Monty said. "And they did. Hunted us up just a week after finding the place."

"The fuck else do they want?" Mason growled, although she supposed it was a dumb question. People these days wanted whatever the hell they could get their hands on.

"To own us," Monty said, a dangerous current running through his voice. "So that we can garden and gather and risk our asses for them. That's why they didn't kill us right there in the mountain house. It probably would've been easier for them if they did. But they want half our shit, every month, in perpetuity."

A flood of exhaustion shook her knees. It wasn't just the sleepless nights. It wasn't just how far she'd had to travel to get here, how long it took.

It was bleeding in her old bedroom, jumping out that window, running, unrelenting desert sunlight, the Oasis, Coyote and her cult, shuddering with snake venom, winters and summers and watching Ava grow, long nights sitting up to keep watch, people glimpsed at a distance, walkers up close and personal, Georgia, sleet cutting a path down her skin, that worn-down bus, the bitter smell of kudzu burning, infection scorching her brain, Beth's fingers in her hair, dreams of starlight and reuniting with someone she could never see clearly, Beth's lips and the sound of her voice and the way it felt to tell her "yes" and then "no", never telling her goodbye, and crying over her, and missing her, and running, running, always fucking running, on and on and on…

It wasn't the kind of exhaustion that could be slept off. And now she was here, and she'd found Ava's family, her _own _family once upon a time, but they weren't safe, and so Ava wasn't safe, and she couldn't leave them to fend off these people without her help.

Maybe the Misfits would hate her after what happened, who she'd lost. Maybe there was too much of a gap, between what she'd suffered alone and what they'd suffered together. Maybe there wasn't forgiveness. Maybe there wasn't healing to be had.

But she still loved them. She still loved them so, so dearly.

"I'm gonna help you fight them," she said quietly. And her heart quaked at the thought, but she felt that primal, brittle part of herself stir, and she knew she could do it.

Maybe it would be the last thing she would ever do.

She hoped it would be.

She was so tired.

~m~

Despite having it described to her, the community still took Mason's breath away.

They hadn't been exaggerating about the size, or the beauty. The buildings were old. The trees and gardens were snow-washed, but abundant. The people emerged from houses in coats and boots and mittens, and for the briefest second, it looked like some clichéd Christmas card.

She hung back while the others conveyed their failed ambush. She spotted Charlie heading away from everyone else, Dave and Dray beside her, and that's when she stopped trying to pick anyone out of the crowd. It was inevitable, though, that they would see her.

She heard her name exclaimed, though it sounded muffled, fighting through all the thoughts warring for space in her brain.

And she couldn't help looking up, couldn't help the catch in her throat when her eyes fell on Tanner, looking just as muscular as she remembered, and Ashlee, blonde hair dye-less for once.

Tanner scooped her into his arms and nearly squeezed the life out of her. Ashlee cried without a word; she was never particularly verbose where emotions were involved, preferring to convey them through sweetness and writing and handholding.

They were so much like how she remembered, it was difficult to reconcile the chasm between the last time she'd seen them and now.

But she felt it. It pulsed open like a new wound when they laid eyes on Ava, when that realization broke over them, when Renee quietly retold what Mason had told them because Mason couldn't, not again.

Then Kelsey was there, kissing her cheeks, and Mason was surprised to see tears in her eyes. Dave hadn't inherited his readiness to cry from his mother.

"Look at you," she said, as though this were nothing more than a family reunion. She supposed it was, in a way.

"Out of the way," an imperious voice rasped, and Mason felt the oddest urge to laugh at the old woman fighting through the crowd. "Let me see my darling with my own eyes."

Kelsey stepped aside to let Lily's aunt, Rita, through.

"Right-hook Rita", the Misfits always called her. She was sixty-eight and barely cleared five feet, but muscles still lurked beneath her wrinkles. A boxer for twenty years, fighting the ban prohibiting women from the sport every step of the way, she'd never lost her ferocity or willingness to kick ass. She was the one who'd taught Mason the basics of boxing and Krav Maga, among many other things.

She grabbed Mason's hands in her firm, weathered grip. Her brown eyes pierced her. Rita always had a way of making one feel seen with just a glance.

Mason fidgeted. She wasn't sure she wanted to be seen now.

"You made it," Rita said, as if she'd always thought Mason would.

"I did."

"My darling, you've come to fill the hole you left."

She didn't know how to answer that. Ava fidgeted in her sling, whining a little.

"I—I should probably get her settled somewhere. She needs to sleep."

"You both do," Monty said.

"The bedroom in the place we're staying," Renee offered. "None of us are using it. We all sleep in the living room together."

Mason almost smiled, but it froze before it could reach the surface. She nodded. "Thanks."

Ezekiel held a hand out. "Forgive me, my lady. I know well your travails have wearied you, and I am more than pleased that it is my kingdom that will lend you reprieve, but first, if I may…" He bowed at the waist. "My deepest gratitude for your aid this day. Your courage and kindness stand out in a world of monsters and thieves."

She tried not to flinch. "It's—it's okay."

"Please know that you are welcome to stay here as long as you like."

Renee led her to the house, an old brick building converted at some point into a multifamily. A one-bedroom on the bottom floor, completely separate from the two-bedroom on the top.

"Monty and Rita live upstairs," Renee explained as they stepped inside. Her voice was distant, subdued. "I'll…get you guys some blankets and stuff. Are you…hungry?"

Mason shook her head. The house entered right into the kitchen, and though it smelled warmly of flour and brown sugar, she couldn't stomach the thought of eating.

Renee strode through the living room and Mason followed a few steps behind. There was a low fire crackling in the fireplace. The Misfits sat huddled on the floor by the couch, Dave and Charlie at their center. They all looked up as Mason passed but no one said anything.

The bedroom was small and cooler than the rest of the house, but Mason didn't care. After so long spent out in the elements, this was a vacation at the Four Seasons.

Renee leaned against the doorframe as Mason got Ava settled in the bed. "I guess, let us know if you need anything."

"Okay. Thanks."

When the door closed, Mason sagged on the bed. Ava clamored clumsily over the blankets and tugged at her arm.

"Sleep!"

Mason laughed humorlessly, rubbing her eyes. "Yeah, I guess I probably should, huh?"

Ava just glared at her and held her arms open, demanding cuddles. So they nestled into a ball the way they always did on the road, Mason curling herself protectively around Ava. She tried to tell herself it wasn't necessary here. They were warm and safe.

But the chill leaked in. And they weren't safe, not really.

Ava fell asleep quickly, but an hour later and Mason was still stuck staring at the wall.

Nothing was how it should've been. And she realized that some small, infuriating part of her had been clinging to the absurd hope that things would be okay, that they'd be better once she found her Misfits, that _she _would be better. Just miraculously, snap-of-the-fingers better. But that wasn't how it worked.

She huffed in frustration. She just wanted her brain to _shut up_, for _five fucking seconds_.

Carefully she got out of bed and riffled through her pack, found her iPod and headphones, slipped them on. She laid back down, running a soothing hand through Ava's hair when she grumbled in her sleep.

It was the one thing that hadn't changed, this one constant she could come home to no matter what. Her music filled her like water, soothing her fire, like air, cherishing her lungs. She breathed in and out, let it swell in her, let it close her eyes.

Under her breath, she sang herself to sleep.

~m~

In the dream, she knew it was Tanner and Ashlee's basement, though the layout was strange, changing each time she looked away and back again. The Misfits were all there, and Nick and Will, too. Everyone was laughing.

Charlie leaned her head on Dray's shoulder. Ashlee tripped Tanner on his way to get a drink. Renee hoisted a glass of wine over her head and declared herself queen of the basement. Lily offered Mason a joint, and she took a hit and felt herself floating.

Everything was okay. It was exactly like how things had been back in L.A. If she didn't wake up, she could stay here forever.

"You wanna take the left, I'll take the right?"

Mason looked up.

Naomi came down the stairs. Her face expressionless. One side eaten away, one eye gray with decay. Her mouth moved, and Beth's voice came out.

"Okay. See you in a bit."

A chill crept over Mason. It was the last exchange she'd shared with Beth. But there was no inflection to the voice. It was empty. Dead.

She looked around to ask if anyone else was seeing this. The laughter had died down. Everyone regarded each other raggedly, fearfully, but no one seemed to see Naomi.

Dave was making out with Will on the couch, but there was now a large chunk ripped from Will's face. His skin was haggard, slimy. He smeared stagnant blood on Dave's lips.

Nick grabbed her arm, lips rotted back to reveal moldy, yellow teeth. "Breathe," he told her. "Breathe through it."

She leaned back, hyperventilating. The room swirled away and she jolted awake.

The second her eyes opened, she clutched at her chest, teeth gritted. A sharp pain pulsed in rhythm with her heart. She tried to breathe around it but her limbs shook; there was no strength in them, no strength in her whole body.

"Macie!" Ava patted her face, eyes wide.

She didn't want Ava to see her like this. She struggled to get a handle on it.

"It's…it's okay," she panted. "I just had a bad dream, that's all. Sometimes us grown-ups get them, too, but it's all good." The room spun. She closed her eyes. "Are you hungry, baby girl?"

"Uh huh."

"Okay, um…just give me a sec, okay, and then we'll get you some breakfast?"

Her voice was high and fragile, close to breaking. Ava pouted, but went to play with some of her toys.

Mason huddled in the middle of the bed until the shaking subsided. Judging from the light coming in through the window, it was well past morning. She heard no sounds from the rest of the house, but she still waited a few minutes before stepping out of the room.

No one else was there. She couldn't decide if she was relieved or not. She fixed Ava a breakfast of oatmeal and bacon, both of them marveling at the fridge and pantry—there was so much _food_. At least, much, much more than they were used to. Ava made a game of pointing to everything in the cabinets and declaring, "Mine."

Jerry waited outside. He held a small wicker basket out to her. There was a little red bow on top, and an assortment of jars and paper sacks inside.

"Hey, dude," he said. "Sorry about being kind of a butthole yesterday."

"Oh." She blinked. "That's okay. You thought I was one of them. I'm sorry for swinging my iron at you."

"It's all good." He smiled cheerfully.

Ava peered curiously at the basket, unable to help herself. "Presents?"

"That's right, little lady. Here!" Jerry placed the basket in Mason's hands. "There's not a whole lot to spare right now, but I got you some preserves—the pomegranate's the best by far. And look, see, we candied these fruits ourselves. Pretty _sweet_, right?" He winked exaggeratedly.

After a beat, a laugh bubbled out of her. Short, startled, but a laugh all the same. Jerry's eyes lit up.

"Yeah, it is. Thank you. You're a…" She reached into the basket and held up a jar of golden jam. "Peach?"

"That's actually nectarine, but totally respect the effort."

"Hey, um…do you know where the Mis—I mean, where my friends might be?" she asked tentatively.

"Not sure where all of them are, but I know Tanner, Renee and Lily are talking with Ezekiel. They're in the courtyard right now; I can take you there if you want. Also, Harriet wanted me to let you know that she's more than happy to watch Ava if you need her to. She watches the kids while everyone's off…you know."

"O—okay. Thanks." She wasn't sure she trusted _anyone _to keep an eye on Ava. But for the first time, she realized she would have to put that trust in someone. She couldn't fight the Saviors with a toddler strapped to her back.

Mason set the gift basket inside and followed Jerry to a courtyard framed by file cabinets and pallets. The drawers were filled with soil, the pallet slats lined with pots and planters and buckets. There weren't any plants growing there now, but she couldn't imagine such ingenuity would come up tails come spring.

Ezekiel opened his arms when he saw her. "Ah, Lady Mason. It pleases me that you would join us."

Tanner, Renee and Lily glanced at her, looking uncertain and uncomfortable.

_Yeah, join the club, guys._

Monty, Kelsey, and Richard were there, as well as two women she didn't recognize and a man and woman she did.

Tanner and Ashlee's parents, Everett and Deb. Mason couldn't say she was particularly happy to see them. She still clearly remembered hiding out in the basement with Tanner and Ashlee while their parents screamed at each other. Sometimes things got broken. Sometimes one of them would leave and be gone for days, then return like it never happened.

They'd never been fond of Mason, either. Resented the times she spent the night, taking up their space and eating their food. Resented that she distracted Tanner and Ashlee from the fighting, encouraged them to leave the house when things got bad so that their parents couldn't use them as weapons against each other.

They regarded each other coolly across the courtyard.

"I'm not interrupting, am I?" she asked.

"No, in fact, you may be able to add some insight into our current plight," Ezekiel answered.

"Are you sure you've rested enough, though?" Monty asked, eyes soft with concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine." No need to admit that her feeling truly rested was a pipe dream at this point. "Whatever I can help with, I'm here."

The meeting was unsurprisingly about the Saviors, specifically when they might launch the next attack on them. They had plenty of guns, though their stores of ammo were running low. They'd need to make a run before they did anything, not to mention food. It wasn't perilous yet, but as winter was still going strong, it would be if left unchecked.

The real issue, however, was that they held no legitimate edge over the Saviors. Negan's men knew where they lived, how many people they had, an approximation of their supplies.

"I suspect they have not razed us to ash simply on the principle of keeping us alive, the same way the wolf does not extinguish the herd but rather one unfortunate stag," Ezekiel explained.

"That's been their MO from the beginning," one of the women spoke up. She was tall and muscular, with deeply tanned skin and honey blonde hair. Mason had a feeling she was one of the farmers Monty had mentioned yesterday.

"So that's our advantage," Mason observed. "If they're not willing to kill us off the bat."

"Yeah, except they're confident they _can _keep us alive," Everett replied. "Which means they're also confident they could swoop in and kill us whenever they damn well feel like it."

"He's right," Richard said, though Mason could tell from his expression he hated to admit it. "They hold all the power. They could starve us in these walls if they wanted to. Be pretty easy to do over winter."

A chill gripped Mason's throat. If they had enough people, it _would _be easy to do.

"Well, then we'll need to prepare for that, won't we?" Renee said. "We're right back to square one. Supply runs first, _then _we worry about whether or not we can attack."

Ava played idly with Mason's hair through the meeting, watching errant flakes of snow drift through the air. She seemed content in this place, aside from her wariness of strangers, which Mason couldn't blame her for one bit.

The meeting concluded with Ezekiel choosing people for the supply runs. Mason volunteered, but he insisted she get her footing first.

She drifted over to Tanner, Lily and Renee as the others dispersed. They smiled at her, but the sorrow behind their eyes felt like a veil put up between them.

"So…" She drew the toe of her boot through a patch of icy mud. "I leave you guys alone for two minutes and you go and make friends with the most theatrical dude this side of Hamlet? That's on brand."

"Literally theater kids," Lily replied, indicating the three of them. "What did you expect?"

"Lily, you were the only one in theater," Renee said.

"Yeah, don't rope me into your geeky shit," Tanner said.

"Yes, but you're friends with me, therefore theater kids by default. That's the law of nature, I don't make the rules." She looked at Ava and spread her arms in exasperation. "I mean, do you hear these jokers? They're pretty silly aren't they?"

Ava eyed her hesitantly. Mason bounced her in her arms, a trick she'd learned comforted her when she felt a little anxious.

"You know why?" Lily continued. "It's cuz they've got big old poo-poo brains."

Ava smiled, hiding a little in Mason's hair.

"You ever met someone with a poo-poo brain?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, shoot, well don't leave me hanging. Dish, girl! Wait, don't tell me." Lily leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially, "It's Mason, isn't it?"

Ava giggled. "Yeah."

Mason rolled her eyes. "Oh, gee, thanks, kid."

"Hey, she's just calling it how she sees it. I like that. She's a straight shooter." Lily held her hands out to Ava. "I bet you also like to color, right?"

"Uh huh."

"Well, hey, do you wanna color with me? We can get a break from all these smelly poopy heads."

Ava glanced up at Mason, who nodded encouragingly. Better that she start getting used to other people sooner than later.

"Okay," Ava said shyly and let Lily hoist her onto her shoulders.

"Color me something really cool, okay, baby girl?" Mason called after them, trying to stifle the pang of anxiety. She couldn't stand guard over her twenty-four seven.

The anxiety shifted shape when she realized she was alone with Tanner and Renee. She fidgeted before deciding to just jump into it.

"Look, do…do you think I could talk to Charlie and Dave?"

Renee and Tanner shared a glance.

"I don't…think you should right now, Mason," Renee said.

Mason worried the inside of her lip. "Do they blame me?" she asked, so quietly it could barely be heard.

"They know it wasn't your fault. They know that." Renee said this stubbornly. "They just need a little time, that's all."

"You gotta understand, Princess—we thought you were _dead_," Tanner said. "We, like, adjusted ourselves around that, you know? We had to get used to it. So seeing you… And then realizing we were right all along about Nomes and Will and… It's like whiplash, man."

Mason nodded, blinking and biting her lip until she tasted blood. Her eyes pricked with infuriating tears; no matter how hard she tried, they wouldn't go away.

"Yeah, no, I totally get that," she said, and she did. She truly did. "Um, would you just…let me know if they want to talk?"

"Of course," Renee said, and reached out to touch Mason's arm.

Mason twitched away. She didn't want anyone touching her. She fucked up everything she touched.

"I'm, uh, I'm gonna…I'll—I'll be back."

"Mason, you don't have to—"

She hurried away, just as the tears began to fall.

Two men stood watch at the gate. She didn't know their names yet. They looked concerned when she asked to leave, but didn't protest much when she insisted she just wanted to have a look around, keep an eye out for any Saviors.

"Stay close," one of them said. She barely heard him. Her head was ringing.

She avoided the road. The forest took her in, bare branches webbing the white winter sky. It looked like fractured glass. She wondered if she cut herself open, would she look like that.

She didn't know where she was going. She stumbled aimlessly, searching for the correct path, the one that would take her away from the pain. For the first time in months, she ached for a drink. She hadn't had one in over two years, couldn't risk it on the road with Ava, but now…

The walkers took her by surprise. She turned a corner and there they were, twenty or so glistening in the icy haze.

She huffed in a breath and drew her fire iron, leaping immediately into action. There was no fear in her, at least not of the walkers. Without Ava to protect, something broke loose in her limbs and she was primal, desert-bitten, teeth and muscle and pounding heart.

The walkers closed in, crackling with frost, eyes frozen. Their blood spattered her, thick and slimy.

_(breathe breathe through it)_

_(see you in a bit)_

Suddenly, they were lying on the ground. She couldn't remember getting from point A to point B. She lowered her iron, blinking blood from her lashes.

Pain welled in her chest. It wasn't the same as waking up before. It felt permanent, like it would wash through and change essential parts of her, like it already had.

She wanted to go to her Misfits. She wanted to comfort Charlie and Dave with the rest of them. She wished they'd never separated. She wished she'd never asked to go to Kansas, to find the mother who'd never tried to find her. She wanted to look her family in the eye and feel like she'd finally come home.

_Stop. _

And she wanted Beth. She wanted to curl up in the comfort of her arms and cry and have someone tell her it was okay, she could break and it would still be okay.

_Stop._

_This isn't useful._

She straightened; she hadn't realized she'd doubled over, bracing herself on her knees.

What purpose did this pain serve? It was self-pity. It was pointless.

She had a job to do. Ava wasn't safe, her family wasn't safe, and so her journey wasn't over yet. She wasn't going to help anyone crying and feeling sorry for herself.

_(you're not okay)_

Okay. She was okay.

_(you're not)_

She breathed deeply, trying to feel her lungs again. There they were. She wasn't breaking at the seams. All her pieces were still in place. She was okay.

But the pain remained. She touched her chest.

How could she make this pain useful? How could she turn it into a weapon for her people? That was the only option, she was out of all other options, because the pain wasn't going away and neither was she. Not yet.

Her eyes touched on the bodies around her, their once-life now-death staining the snow.

In her head, she heard Beth telling her about how her people disguised themselves in walker blood, using the dead to their advantage. But blood wasn't the only thing the dead could offer.

_Jackass. You should rest._

Mason closed her eyes.

_Okay. Thank you for your help, _she thought at the voice._ But I have to say goodbye now._

Very carefully, she sealed Beth away in her heart. She could not think of her now, not anymore, not when she'd been drafted for war. Nothing mattered unless it was useful for dragging her family out of this. And she would. Somehow, she would. It was the least she could fucking do.

She hauled the bodies into a pile. She'd have to be careful with how she dispatched them from now on. No waste.

Her tears dried while she covered herself in blood.

~m~

She washed herself down with snow before she returned. There were different guards at the gate, talking with Monty, Renee and Ezekiel.

Renee threw her arms out. "Where the hell were you? You've been gone for hours."

"Patrolling," Mason answered. "If you're sending people out, there needs to be someone keeping an eye out for any sign of attack."

"Lady Mason, we have lookouts vested for that purpose," Ezekiel said.

"That's great, but this could give us advance warning. If you don't want to spare people, I'm more than happy to do it myself."

Monty's eyes narrowed. Mason kept her expression still as a frozen pond.

"It is not a lack of people, but the peril it may place them in. Should anyone fall into such peril, we would have no way of knowing."

"Well, I don't think I officially joined your group, so…I'm not really your people. Officially," Mason pointed out. "Anyway, I can make a run at some point, look for some walkie talkies or something."

"Whether you consider yourself a part of my company or otherwise, you are still here and have elected to champion us, which places you under my care," Ezekiel said sternly.

"You have to let me help out. Otherwise, what am I doing here?"

Renee looked at her sharply. Mason ignored her.

"Look, I have to do everything I can to make sure Ava's safe," she insisted, a little bit of life leaking back into her voice. "I can't have brought her here for nothing. I have to make sure she has a chance at _something_."

Ezekiel's expression softened and he sighed. "Yes. Now more than ever, we must pave a new road of prosperity and hope for our youth. But if I am to allow you to do this, we will take every precaution into account. We will acquire a reliable means of communication before all else."

"Walkies are on the list," Monty said. "We've never needed them before, because we've never really needed to separate. But the recon groups are out looking for some as we speak."

Mason nodded. "We'll hope for some good news then."

She escaped to the house before anyone could ask her anything else.

Lily, Tanner and Dave were there with Ava, eating dinner in the living room. Ava hopped up as soon as she saw Mason and ran over to hug her leg and show her the picture she drew. Mason told her it was very pretty in the brightest voice she could manage and asked if she had a good day. She listened while Ava and Lily explained that they'd colored for a while and met Harriet and some of the other kids, before playing tag with Tanner and Dave.

"Wow, that sounds like an awesome day!" Mason enthused.

Ava bounced up and down in agreement, eyes sparkling. Mason's heart swelled with a strange mix of joy and sadness.

She hung out in the kitchen, listening to the others laugh. Dave seemed a little better, though she hadn't quite managed to look him in the eye. She ate a dinner of dried rabbit and pomegranate jam and silently catalogued the events of her own day.

After painting herself in blood, she'd gone around the community in ever-widening circles, keeping a lookout not just for Saviors but for the dead. She'd caught a few walkers, but nothing like her run-in earlier. That was okay. She had some ideas for luring more.

She hadn't seen any Saviors. She wondered how long this wanting-to-keep-them-alive-for-their-service thing would last. Not forever, that was sure. If Ezekiel's group put up enough of a fight, eventually they would be forced to take them out. Try, at least.

The real problem was that no one seemed to know just how many men Negan had, or even where they lived. Apparently, they had several different outposts but none of them seemed to be the main populace.

So she'd have to add recon to her rotation. Her eyes narrowed. She'd be gone a lot. Guilt needled her, but she didn't have much of a choice. Besides, Ava needed to get used to these people. They were her family now.

She sat her down that night once Ava was ready for bed.

"I'm gonna be really busy for a little while, because these people need my help," she explained. "But you'll get to have lots of fun while I'm gone! You'll get to color with your new friends and play games, and I hear Harriet has story time a lot. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

"But you come back always dough, right, Macie?"

Mason swallowed. "That's right, baby girl. Always."

She'd never been the best liar. But Ava didn't notice the difference.

~m~

Days blurred, just like they did on the road.

Waking before dawn, an hour working out in the big brick gymnasium, taking over watch at the gate for a four hour shift, checking in on Ava, running laps around the neighborhood, keeping watch for another four hours. When sleep resisted, she wore herself out at the gym until she felt she could close her eyes for a while. She paid close attention to the schedules of others, so she could stay away from them. It was better if…if they didn't get used to her being around.

When a scouting group came back with walkie talkies, she added patrols to the cycle. She kept an eye out for the Saviors, of course, but that wasn't all she used this time for.

The walkers came when she sang for them, sometimes in a group and sometimes individually. She learned quickly that as long as she was covered in dead blood, they merely surrounded her, intrigued by the sound but deterred by the scent. They followed her anywhere, like grotesque ducklings.

She stored a good portion of them in a house about a mile off the highway, but those that she didn't, she tied to trees, a circle of the dead with her at the center. Then she wrapped her hands and used them for boxing practice. Each time, she lengthened the slack on their bindings a little more, wore a little less protective clothing. They never got her, but sometimes…it was close.

She didn't tell anyone about these convocations with the dead. She was afraid they might see something in her she didn't want them to see.

Through it all, there was a part of her that felt it happening. It had only happened to this severity once before, and that…she remembered where that had led. She still couldn't take pills, couldn't stomach cold medicine, anything that made her drowsy.

But she couldn't stop it, didn't even know where to begin. Everything felt wildly out of her grasp. She was a cog, trying to turn while the rest of the machine collapsed around her. She just had to keep moving. She couldn't stay still too long. Everything would be alright so long as she kept moving…

The cold pressed in while she rotated in this cycle. The Virginia natives in Ezekiel's group fretted about it, muttered that this winter was shaping up to be harsher than they'd had in a while. Everyone wondered if this was why they'd seen nothing of the Saviors since the ambush. Mason thought it would at least keep them from trying to starve them out. She couldn't imagine they'd try something like that in such bitter cold.

Two weeks into this rhythm, Monty sought Mason out on the front watch post. It was around four in the morning and snowing heavily, which made Mason anxious. Between the weather and the dark, anyone could sneak up and they wouldn't see until the last minute. Maybe she should trade shifts with someone, head out there…

Monty held a Styrofoam cup out to her. "Thought you could use something warm. Didn't want you to turn into an icicle out here."

Absently, she took it. "Maybe we would build some watch posts out in the woods. I know some good places. We could do it in an X pattern, from each direction out from the community. Maybe we could—"

"Hey." Monty elbowed her. "You're welcome."

Mason blinked, then looked down at the cup in her hand. It was hot chocolate, she realized, mini marshmallows and everything. Her throat tightened.

"Shit. Sorry. I was just… Thank you."

He smiled a little and sipped from his own cup. They were silent for a while, peering through the thick flakes to the darkness beyond.

"Dray says they haven't seen much of you," Monty finally said.

Mason said nothing. The hot chocolate was good for being the generic powdered stuff…

"I'm wondering why that is," he continued.

She chewed pensively on a marshmallow.

"Back in L.A., no one could separate the eight of you for anything."

"What do you want me to say, Monty?" she snapped. "We're not in L.A., we're right here, and here fucking sucks." It was more honest than she wished to be. She filled her mouth with hot chocolate.

"Yeah, you're not wrong there," he agreed, with that same infuriating calm he'd passed on to his son. "More reason than ever to enjoy the good things, though. You know they're thrilled to have you back, right?"

"I…I'm not sure that's even why I'm…" She drummed her fingers along the cup. "Charlie and Dave aren't…ready to have me around yet. And the thing is, I _understand_ that. They have every right to be upset, to be angry, all that, and I don't mean just at me, I mean at _everything_. They lost people they loved so much, and that _is _my fault. I'm the one who wanted to stop in Kansas, look for my mom, and Will and Naomi were the collateral damage. I'm not upset that they're upset."

Monty cocked his head, not saying anything. Waiting for her to continue at her own pace.

"I'm upset because…I can't _fix _it." Her eyes stung. "There's this gap, you know? Because before this, we always went through the bad shit _together_. But we were apart for so long, and now I don't even know what to say to them. I'm upset because I came here expecting to know the right things to say, expecting to know how to comfort them, and now I can't even look them in the fucking eye. I'm upset because I thought things would just magically get better, except things are never getting better. Things are never, ever going back to the way they were, and I don't know how to live with that anymore. I'm at the end of my journey and I don't know where else to go."

She stopped before she said anymore. She was getting dangerously close to confessing that other truth, what seemed right now to be the very core of her.

"Hey," Monty said, gripping her shoulder. "This isn't everything there's ever gonna be. If we thought that, none of us would be fighting back so hard. You don't always need to know what to say, or what to do, or who to be. You're here, and I'll tell you right now, that is fucking everything."

She didn't know if she agreed with him, if he was right or wrong, but she leaned in to hug him anyway.

"We'll figure all the rest out," he promised, rubbing her back.

She nodded. "Okay."

A gunshot cracked the silence. Something shot past her, cutting through the hair at the nape of her neck.

Instinct had her ducking down, slamming Monty onto the platform below her. Hot chocolate spilled down her arm, burst against her chest. Gunfire peppered the night, then stopped.

"Shit," she hissed. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine, did they get you?" Monty gripped her arms, felt the back of her neck.

"No, just—just missed me." Her skin still buzzed. Pinpricks of adrenaline radiated down to her toes. Keeping low, she retrieved her gun and peeked over the wall.

"I can't see anyone."

Behind them, the few lights on in the buildings went out at once.

A low, two-toned whistle sounded from the trees. Another answered it, and another and another. She and Monty straightened and aimed their guns as a man stepped onto the road, but neither of them took the shot. Two other men emerged, then five, then ten, all of them armed with guns of their own. There was no question who they were.

Mason glanced across the way at the other watch post and met Richard's grim gaze.

"Hello!" the first man yelled, waving pleasantly. He was tall and thin, with a handlebar mustache and a snake smile. "Sure is cold out here. Why don't you open that gate? Let us warm up a bit, like good neighbors?"

"Yeah, buddy, we're not going to be doing that," Monty answered.

"Shame. We'd really like to do this amicably."

Mason's lip curled. "I forgot the part where you murdering our people is amicable."

"That's just procedure, little missy. It ain't nothing personal, it's just to demonstrate where you stand with us." He shrugged. "I suppose maybe it's a little bit our fault. Sometimes we can come on a little strong. I admit that, but you know, we have had some bad experiences in the past. Gave some people the benefit of the doubt and paid for it."

"Richard! Mason! What is going on?"

"Got company, your Majesty," Richard said.

Ezekiel climbed up to Richard's platform. Mason could hear the murmur of people gathering below, but she didn't dare look away from the Saviors.

"What is the meaning of this?" Ezekiel asked coldly.

"Morning, your Highness. We were just telling your lookouts here that we'd like to have a look-see around your little community. Oh, sorry—name's Simon, by the way."

"Simon. It is not the practice of a self-respecting king to allow contemptible vermin within the empire under his rule. Therefore, never will there come a day when I allow you or your men inside these walls. And should you force my hand, I promise you will bewail the decision that led you to do so."

"Ooh." Simon pursed his lips. "Sounds pretty serious. See, but…here's why I _can't_ take it seriously. You see these men? Well, I brought quite a few of them along with me. Quite a few. You _could _even say, I brought enough to surround this entire place."

Mason's stomach plummeted somewhere dark and cold. Here it was, exactly what they'd feared might happen. And if the Saviors had enough people to surround this place, that meant they far outnumbered Ezekiel's group.

"Now the only reason we don't storm this gate right now and take this place for ourselves, is because we don't want to waste the resources. We're pretty economical that way. We want what you have, but more than that, we want _you_. People are the most important resource these days. They are an _investment_. But…ah. I've given you this speech before. I just feel like it's important to reiterate, since you don't seem to be getting it."

"Take your men and leave, Simon," Ezekiel said. "I will not ask again."

"Oh, we won't be doing that. But that's alright. We can wait. See if we can't persuade you to change your mind."

Simon said nothing after that. He and his men seemed to be getting comfortable, aligned in a circle that did indeed stretch around the edges of the wall. Mason trembled.

"I need to check on Ava," she whispered. "Monty, will you please…?"

"Of course." He stayed put on the watch tower while she scrambled down to the ground.

She halted when she spotted Ava, half-asleep in Charlie's arms. The rest of the Misfits surrounded them, a few of them with guns.

But though there were enough guns, there wasn't enough ammo for everyone.

"What's going on?" Dave asked. "Is it the Saviors?"

"Yes. They say they brought enough men to surround this place. We need to check and see how many of them have weapons."

The Misfits split up to check the other three watch points; Dray and Charlie followed Mason to the west point.

A body lay below the platform, shot through the eye. Mason remembered the earlier gunfire and a cold sweat dewed on her neck. They meant to make an example of the lookouts. That was the first warning.

"Well?" Charlie called once they were up there.

"Fuck," Dray murmured.

The men stood out in the open, completely confident. Because all of them were armed, almost all of them with guns. Where the fuck had they found so many? But that was a stupid question. They had to have stolen them from other people, other groups.

"They're gonna try starve us, maybe freeze us out first," Mason breathed. "Just like we thought. Because they want what's in here. But if we put up a fight, they'll just storm the gate."

"We can't fight that anyway," Dray replied. "We don't have the men or the guns to match that."

There had to be a way. There had to be. Her thoughts bounced like haphazard tennis balls, but landed on nothing concrete.

When the Misfits reconvened, everyone else was gathered near the gate around Ezekiel, talking in hushed voices.

"The other lookouts?" Mason asked.

The Misfits shook their heads, eyes dark.

"…they killed our power, they could just wait until we freeze in here!" Everett said.

"That won't happen. We can build fires, we can stay together for body heat," Kelsey replied.

"Yeah, but what the hell difference will that make in the end?" Deb demanded. "We'll starve eventually, or they'll get bored waiting and force their way in."

"My dear Deb, please." Ezekiel raised his hands for calm. "We cannot hope to foster a solution by giving in to fear."

But no one ventured a solution that seemed viable. All were terrible risks no one seemed confident in taking.

The sun came up while they debated. More lookouts were selected to keep watch but ordered not to fire their weapons unless absolutely necessary. Food would be rationed until a solid plan could be determined. Until then, everyone would shelter in the auditorium to keep warm.

Mason found it nearly impossible to stay cooped up in there. Even when it wasn't her turn on watch, she frequently roamed the community, senses straining for any change from outside, mind churning.

A day passed. The Saviors remained where they were, building fires, playing cards, making themselves right at home. When the sun went down, more men appeared to swap out with them.

"So technically, they have enough people to surround this place twice," Mason reported.

Ezekiel's eyes had tightened, but his determination never wavered.

"We will think of something. Do not lose faith. Fortune shines its light for the good."

She wasn't sure that was how that worked, but she didn't contest it.

When night fell, fire pits were dragged in from outside and spaced out at intervals, hallway windows cracked to let out the smoke. A small dinner was passed out, though Mason refused her share. She didn't think she could stomach eating, anyway. When they weren't on watch shift, the Misfits seemed to be keeping Ava distracted and happy; Mason was pretty sure she thought they were just having a big sleepover. She wondered how long that would last.

At some point, she nabbed a few hours of sleep on a lookout platform while Jerry kept watch, cradling her gun to her chest in case anything happened. But aside from the original group of men switching back at dawn, the Saviors didn't move.

The second day echoed the first. Mason gathered a bunch of toys and games from Harriet's daycare to keep the kids entertained. She kept watch with Jerry, sharing the jar of pomegranate jam for lunch. People passed their ideas around, but nothing substantial. In the evening, Ezekiel honored their dead lookouts with a eulogy, but the bodies couldn't be buried because the ground was frozen.

That night, Ashlee approached Mason, chewing on a strand of hair the way she did when she was nervous.

"Hey, um, I know you're trying to keep busy and stuff, but Ava's really been missing you and, like, maybe tonight you could stay with us?"

_Ava's really been missing you. _Even through her growing darkness, the words put a lump in her throat.

So she settled in against the wall by the Misfits, trying not to feel uneasy about it. Ava climbed into her lap and babbled about the book Ashlee had read to her earlier, and there was conversation among the Misfits that Mason sometimes got roped into, and it wasn't like how it was before, but it wasn't all bad.

Even though Ava kicked in her sleep, Mason let her use her as a pillow once she nodded off. Some were trying to bed down for the night, others staying up to tend to the fires. Mason closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep, listening to the Misfits talk in hushed voices.

"They can't stay standing out there forever, they're gonna get sick of the cold real quick."

"Could just be a matter of days before they decide they're coming in here."

"They're counting on having fear on their side. My guess is they've done shit like this before and it always worked because the people were too afraid to put up a fight. They probably think we'll crack soon."

"They're in for a nasty surprise, then."

"Are they? Or are we?"

Outside, the wind picked up; though they were deep inside the building, its howling still reached them. Mason concentrated on that and let it blur her consciousness.

She was jolted awake by upraised voices, not quite shouting but definitely agitated. She sat up.

"What's going on?"

"Simon asked to see Ezekiel," Charlie answered. "He just got back. The storm isn't letting up outside so the Saviors are giving us until dawn to let them in."

"How far off is that?" Mason clutched Ava tighter.

"Three hours, maybe. Some people are saying we should."

In the center aisle, people gathered around Ezekiel, arguing with him and each other.

"But we shouldn't," Charlie continued. "We shouldn't make it easy for them. If it's the end, then it's the end. I'm not gonna serve them."

"It's not the end," Mason said fiercely. "And we're not making it easy for them, either."

"What do you mean?" Dave asked. "What are we supposed to do?"

"I—I don't know. Let me think for a minute."

"Princess, I love you, but we've had two whole days to come up with something and we've come up with jack shit," Tanner said. "Let's stop pretending some fancy plan's gonna save us and just hit 'em with all we got, I mean, really shove their dicks up their asses."

"That's not helping me think."

"Are you, like, detaching them first, or…?"

Renee huffed. "Tanner, you idiot, that's the kind of dumbass, guns blazing bullshit that got us chased into that abandoned mall. Which we then had to hide out in for _twenty-four fucking hours_."

"It wasn't _twenty-four_ hours. It was like twenty, tops."

"There has to be some kind of edge," Ashlee murmured. "Something we could use."

Something they could use. Mason had a whole houseful of somethings they could use, a mile out beyond the wall. She gritted her teeth. If there was just a way she could get past the Saviors…

An idea sparked. Risky, but what could they do at this point that wouldn't be?

"Guys." Mason leaned forward. "I have something."

~m~

The wind bit Mason's face as she and the Misfits waited for the signal. They crouched on the roof of a school bus parked up next to the west wall. Sheets, coiled into long ropes, webbed them together arm by arm—a safety precaution advised by the farmer, Sam Stebbins, and enforced by everyone else. Once they got out there, it was going to be hard to see anything.

The first whistle went up on their left. The Saviors turned toward the sound, squinting into the furious wind. Another whistle, this time on the right, and the Saviors turned, creating a gap directly below.

Mason and the Misfits launched themselves over the side of the wall. A deep snowdrift caught them, muffling the sound and cushioning the impact. None of them hesitated. They raced through the gap while the Saviors were still distracted and disappeared into the trees.

They didn't slow, even when they'd put enough distance between them and the Saviors. They had barely two hours to get this done, and they were going to be pushing it.

Mason led the way, legs burning as she cut a path forward. The wind was at their back, but the snow was piled high, up to their thighs in some places. Branches creaked eerily around them. The beam of her flashlight wavered frantically through the white.

There was a terrifying moment when she was sure she'd gone the wrong way, but then her light glanced across a dirty window pane, a rotted face peering out.

"We're there!" she hollered over her shoulder.

The Misfits helped her open the front door, allowing one of the walkers through before slamming it in the rest of the horde's face.

Mason gutted the walker with her Oasis knife and then motioned to it.

"Come get y'all juice."

Dave gagged. The others groaned in disgust.

"Aw, Mason!"

"Girl, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know," Mason said. "Just…pretend it's face paint. Or makeup. Something."

"Oh, yes. This…" Lily rolled her eyes as she slathered her cheekbones. "This is to get you glowing for the gods."

Once they were properly covered, Mason grabbed the doorknob.

"Remember, they'll follow you so long as you give them something to follow," she said. "So sing or make noise or something. Dave, you got your walkie ready?"

"Yep." Dave held it up. His cheeks puffed out, like he was trying desperately not to vomit.

"Hang in there, soldier." She swung the door open.

Everyone tensed, but the walkers staggered out sedately. Mason reached for her own walkie and radioed in.

"Jerry?"

"Yeah, boss."

"Send up the first flare."

A minute passed, and then a red spark shot through the night. Mason untied one of the sheet ropes connecting them, dissecting the Misfits into two groups.

"Alright, you guys know what to do. Be careful."

"You, too," Dave said and then began to sing. "_Somebody once told me_…"

Tanner, Lily and Renee joined him, drawing the walkers out of the house and through the trees. Once about half of them had emptied, Mason started singing as well, drawing the second half in the opposite direction. Dray, Charlie and Ashlee added their voices as they led the walkers back the way they'd come.

After about ten minutes, Mason radioed Jerry again to send up a second flare. The Saviors would know something was up, but she didn't think they'd figure out exactly what. That they were signaling for help, certainly. But as far as the Saviors knew, the whole of Ezekiel's group was trapped within the walls and in any case, what help would come in a blizzard? She just hoped they wouldn't decide to breach the gate before the Misfits returned.

Another ten minutes, another flare. Too long, they were taking too long! They had to slow their pace so that the walkers could keep up, which felt excruciating. Mason could almost feel the sun inching its way up, though she saw no softening in the black sky above.

But finally, a figure materialized up ahead. A man. Mason turned off her flashlight but kept singing. Another flare went up, illuminating a row of Saviors just a few feet in front of her. Blinded by the storm, none of them saw her until it was too late.

She grabbed her iron off her back and descended on the men, with her Misfits and the dead at her back. The men screamed, in terror, in pain. Some went running. Others colored the snow with their blood. To the south, a similar cacophony could just be heard over the howling of the wind, and Mason smiled grimly, knowing Dave's group had found their mark.

The first gun she saw, she snatched up, returning her iron to her back. She marched through the storm, one shoulder brushing the wall to keep from losing her way, until she rounded the corner and spotted the gate. A good number of Saviors congregated there, looking around wildly for the source of the commotion.

Mason took aim and fired. Dray, Charlie and Ashlee positioned themselves beside her, all armed with their own confiscated guns. And from all around, on the watch posts, the lookouts took up their arms and fired, as well.

The Saviors scattered. None of them tried to stay and fight. When there were no longer any outside the gate, Mason gave chase. Engines roared to life from different directions; she could spot vague halos of headlights but not the cars themselves. Then the sound faded, leaving only the haunting wail of the wind.

Dave and his group came rushing around the east wall, all with new guns and exhilarated faces.

"Holy shit, did we do it?" he said.

"We did it," Mason murmured, then shouted it again. "We did it!"

And before she could take her next breath, the Misfits crushed her and each other in their arms, jumping up and down and screaming their victory to the night.

~m~

"Hey." Charlie rapped lightly on Mason's open door. "Can I come in?"

"Uh, yeah. Of course."

It was a little past noon. The storm had finally died down and everyone was out bustling around, inventorying all the weapons and useful shit the Saviors had left behind, planning fortification of the community, repairing the generators, or celebrating their victory.

They kept thanking her and the Misfits for their daredevil scheme, so Mason had opted to hide out in her room for a while. She wasn't sure she liked the attention.

Charlie sat on the floor at her feet. There was silence for a minute. Mason twiddled her thumbs.

"I'm sorry if I made you feel like shit for coming back," Charlie finally said. "That wasn't what that was about. I'm really glad you're here."

"I know," Mason said quietly. "But you know…you had every right to be upset. You still do."

"It was just…I told myself you were dead, that…Naomi was. But I didn't see it happen, so there was always this stupid fucking part of me that believed you guys made it. That somehow, somewhere, you were all alive and happy. And even if I didn't see you again, it was okay. It was better that way, because then, if I was wrong, I'd never have to know."

Charlie glanced at her. "It wasn't your fault, Mason. You had to look for your mom, I get it. She was family, and I would've done the same for Naomi."

Mason didn't agree, but she didn't say as much. This wasn't about her. "Okay, but…you know it wasn't your fault, either."

Charlie's chin trembled. She said nothing.

Mason slid down to the floor next to her and took her hand. "It's not your fault, Charlie. What happened just happened. It's not your fault, it never was."

Charlie turned and buried her face in Mason's shoulder, gripping her hard enough to hurt.

"I miss her so much, Mason."

"I know."

Mason held on tight, holding her steady while the sobs shuddered through her. She didn't say anything, just let Charlie soak her shirt. She didn't always have to know what to say. Sometimes there wasn't anything to be said at all.

Eventually, Charlie pulled away, sniffling and wiping a sleeve across her face. "Ava looks so much like her, it hurts. I wish she could've known her."

"I…tell her about Naomi. All the time."

Charlie blinked.

Mason nodded. "It's not the same, but I tell her everything I remember about Naomi, and all the stories you told me, just so she has…something to hold onto. I didn't want her to grow up not knowing who her mother was."

"That's… Thank you."

Charlie smiled a little. Then she punched Mason's arm.

"Don't fucking mention this to anyone."

"Ow, Jesus… Yeah, god forbid anyone knows you feel things. Ooh, the horror."

"Yes, exactly."

When Charlie got to her feet, she offered a hand to Mason. "C'mon. Let's round up the rest of the nerd herd. We never officially celebrated you and Ava finding us. We'll have a big family dinner."

Warmth blossomed in Mason's chest, for the first time in weeks. "That is a stunning idea, Miss Sung."

She smiled and took Charlie's hand.

**A/N: So I realize this chapter was really angst-heavy. The next one won't be _quite _so much, as there will be more action, but it's also not going to be super lighthearted since, you know, they're at war with the Saviors. But, got some twists and turns I'm excited about, so yeah! Anyway, thanks so much for reading, and until next time, much love xoxo.**


	19. First

**A/N: Hello, all! Finally back with the next chapter, and it's another long one. Not quite as long as the last, but it's up there. As far as these interludes go, I think they'll steadily get smaller, or at least I'll strive for that! This chapter song is "First" by Cold War Kids, and it's a pretty great song for Mason overall. And speaking of Mason, I will warn you that she gets a little violent in this one, so just so you're aware. Also, there is a trigger warning for abuse from a parent/mention of acephobia from said parent. It's brief, but I didn't want anyone to proceed unwarned. As always, thanks so much to my readers and reviewers, you truly are the best. Hope you enjoy!  
**

19\. Second Interim, pt. 2: First

After finishing the dawn watch shift, Mason went for a jog around the quarry, admiring the way the rising sun glinted off the water.

She'd found the quarry last month, venturing out farther than Ezekiel really wanted her to in her search for walkers. Sam and her wife, Bea, said the county dug it out years back to mine for limestone, but it never amounted to anything and was left to fill with water.

"They tried again about ten, fifteen miles out?" Sam said. "Nothing nice about that one; it's an eyesore. Hollowed it out for stone and sand to help construct this upscale community to the north. Don't know if they ever finished. Everything started going to hell around that time."

The solitude was refreshing. She'd started leading training sessions, so that Ezekiel's people would be better prepared if faced with hand-to-hand combat. It was…overwhelming. Aside from a few who opted out, Everett among them, she was basically teaching the entirety of the group, which hovered around forty-five. Over half of them were older than her and she'd never instructed anyone about anything on this level before. Rita stuck around to help out but mostly let Mason lead the sessions herself. So it was stressful to say the least.

When she finished her last circuit, she made her usual rounds through the woods, searching for Saviors and singing for walkers. It was slow going, building back her supply of the dead. Since the blizzard, there hadn't been nearly as many. She wondered if the storm had thrown them off their course, driven them elsewhere. It was too much to hope they might slowly be dying off.

Luck brought her one for gutting, then four more as she ranged north through the late spring greenery. But she paused as she led them toward her designated walker holding house.

A mountain bike leaned against a tree, laden with sacks and baskets of supplies.

Mason fell silent, heart racing. Everything else still glistened from the heavy rain they'd gotten last night, but the bike and supplies were dry. Someone was out here. She couldn't imagine anyone leaving their shit unguarded for long, but she couldn't see anyone.

"What do you guys think?" she murmured.

The walkers milled around her, letting out putrid sighs through champing teeth.

"Yeah, I'm not sure about it either. But I think I'll regret leaving it."

Slowly, she stepped forward. Senses taut, she extended her iron and tipped the bike over.

The bags spilled, but nothing else happened. No wires, no weapons, no traps snapping down. Rabbit-quick, she darted forward and gathered the supplies in her arms.

"Hey!"

She looked up just in time to see a shrouded figure leap and grab a nearby tree branch. They swung toward her. Boots caught her shoulder and the side of her head.

She hissed and rolled away, cradling the supplies to her chest. The walkers snarled, converging as the stranger stuck a graceful landing and pulled down their hood.

"Sorry." The man sounded anything but. His blue eyes glinted. "Can't let you take what's mine, though, hon."

"Maybe don't leave it out where anyone can find it then." She kicked out, attempting to knock his legs from under him.

He dodged her agilely, spinning as the dead attempted to grab him. His elbow came up, crunched the face of one walker. He ducked, rammed his shoulder into the chest of a second and tossing it to the ground.

Mason couldn't help staring. Who the fuck was this guy?

One of Negan's men, had to be. Her eyes narrowed and she reached for her gun.

The man didn't notice at first, too busy taking her walkers out with ever-increasing ostentation. She might have tried to shoot him then, but he jumped around so quickly she was sure she wouldn't hit him. But if he moved like that, she wasn't sure she wanted to chance a one-on-one with him either. Other option was taking the shit and running, but she didn't want to risk leaving him alive.

While she debated this, the man…ricocheted off a fucking tree like a circus performer. She squinted, torn between jealousy and irritation.

When the walkers were dead, the man froze, spotting her gun.

"Okay. Hang on," he said. "I don't think you wanna shoot me over a few bags."

"I don't think you wanna tell me what I'm thinking."

"You're right, I'm sorry. I'm just wondering if maybe there's another way out of this."

"There's not. Hands up, asshole."

"Look, we got off on the wrong foot. I mean, _you _were the one stealing _my _supplies, so—"

"Shut up. This isn't just about supplies, and you fucking know it."

The man raised an eyebrow. She didn't think he looked intimidated enough.

"Alright," she said after a moment. "You want another way out? Tell me where Negan is."

Realization darkened his gaze. "You know Negan?"

"Tell me where he's hiding out, where he's _really _hiding out, and maybe you get to live."

Behind her, there came a snapping of branches and the rasp of walkers. They must have been drawn by the noise. She didn't turn, assured by her blood paint, but the man's eyes widened.

"How about we do this after?"

"You're on my time, buddy."

"Look, I'm not who you think I am. I'm not one of…_them._ The Saviors. But I do know them. Maybe we can help each other."

He seemed sincere, but…

The walkers brushed past her without a second glance. "I don't think so," she said. "From where I'm standing, looks like you're the only one who needs help here."

Earnestness dissolved in exasperation. "Okay, I'm really sorry about this, but—"

In a burst of movement, the man kicked the gun out of her hands and turned on the walkers. Teeth clenched, Mason drew her fire poker. If she could just get a nice clean jab at his legs…

He tossed one of the walkers against the trunk of the little tree she stood under, hard enough that the branches shook. A shower of fat droplets rained down from where they'd accumulated on the leaves above, washing the blood from her skin in thick rivulets.

Walkers turned in her direction.

_Fuck. _

She raised her iron, but hands seized her leg before she could swing it. The walker the man threw against the tree pulled itself toward her, teeth clicking robotically at her calf. Its grip was unexpectedly strong; it pulled her off balance as she twisted to stab it.

"_Shit_," she hissed, half-collapsing against the tree. She shoved to keep the other walkers away, but couldn't get enough leverage to dispatch the one at her feet.

The man appeared out of nowhere, stabbing the walker in the head and swinging himself between her and the others.

"Stay behind me and I'll get the rest," he said.

Mason's lip curled. Like she couldn't handle it on her own.

"Don't patronize me, asshole." And she hurled herself at the walkers.

They took down the rest of the group together, though Mason's instincts screamed to keep the walkers alive. Once they lay at their feet, Mason turned warily to face the man.

"See?" The man smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Teamwork."

"I helped you. You owe me."

"You're a real sweetheart, aren't you?" It was less angry than teasing, but there was an edge that Mason couldn't place. "But I can't let you take my supplies. I need them."

"No, just…the truth. You owe me the truth. Who are you?"

The man blinked. "Paul Rovia," he finally said. "Or Jesus, if you want. All my friends call me that."

"How do you know Negan?"

His eyes darkened. "I…live with some other people. Those friends I mentioned. Our leader, he didn't want to fight. So he knelt instead, and now we all serve the Saviors."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you go along with it, when you could fight back?"

"My people don't fight back because they're afraid. They think this is the best option, the only option. I don't because my people mean more to me than my pride."

_What about your freedom? _she wanted to ask, but didn't. She wasn't sure she liked this man, but she didn't think he was lying to her. His answers seemed sincere. If she were being honest, though she'd told herself he must be, he'd never really seemed like a Savior to begin with.

"Well?" He raised an eyebrow. "Do I pass the test?"

She nodded shortly. "Yeah. But before you get your stuff back, I want to ask you one more thing."

His lips twitched. "Alright, sweetheart, hit me."

"Think you could teach me how to fight like that?"

~m~

She didn't tell anyone about Jesus. It was probably incredibly stupid not to, but she didn't want anyone else involved in case things went south. She didn't plan on keeping it a secret forever, just until she was positive she could really trust him.

The house was loud that night. Laughter emanated from the living room, and Monty and Dray worked side-by-side in the kitchen. She paused in the doorway, shrugging off her fire iron.

"Mason!" Monty waved with a flour-covered hand. "I'd say you're just in time to help us with this cobbler, but I want it to turn out edible."

Dray snorted and Mason rolled her eyes.

"Uh huh, yeah, that's _hilarious_."

"Mason, come on. Don't you remember that time you tried to make fry bread at our house?" Dray said. "You nearly—"

"I nearly set the kitchen on fire and killed us all, I know, I know. You don't have to bring that up every other Sunday."

She supposed in retrospect it was a little funny. She'd panicked and tried to put the grease fire out with water, but she'd slipped and spilled the whole pot on herself instead. Luckily Dray had smothered it with baking soda, seeing as he _wasn't _a dumbass.

"Dray, why don't you tell Mason about your fourth birthday?" Monty said, eyes sparkling.

"Dad. No."

Mason grinned. "Wait, what about his fourth birthday?"

"_Nothing _about my fourth birthday."

"Well," Monty began, clearly enjoying this, "one of his presents that year was a little bag of mini Reese's cups, you know?"

"Absolutely, they're delicious."

"Please, Dad, do not give her any ammo."

"No, Dad, give me _all_ the ammo."

Dray tried to protest again but Mason flapped her hands in front of his face to shush him.

"So Elisha and I, we walk into the kitchen to light the candles on his cake, but when we bring it out, we see him shoving the Reese's cups down the back of his shorts. And we asked him, you know, what in god's name are you doing. And he pointed to his shorts, hands all sticky with melted chocolate, and said, 'It where the poop goes!'"

Dray groaned. Mason gave him an evil grin.

"So what you're saying is I should definitely start referring to him exclusively as _Butt_-ercup?"

"Mason, _no_. Dad, you know how she is with puns!"

"Aw, son, I'm sorry, I just thought we were sharing funny food stories." Monty smiled cheerfully and locked Dray in a one-armed hug.

With a few last parting puns, Mason ventured into the living room. She was surprised to see that it wasn't just her Misfits causing the ruckus. Scott, Kelsey, Rita and Jerry were there, too, all of them locked in an uproarious game of truth or Jenga.

Mason's heart swelled at the sight, especially when she spotted Ava, having the time of her life messing with Tanner while he tried to pull a block from the tower. When she spotted Mason, she bounced happily.

"Mason!" Renee beckoned her. "Come help us sabotage Tanner's win streak."

Stifling the residual anxiety at being around such brightness and laughter, Mason joined them.

And it was nice, for a while.

Dave was a loud and enthusiastic cheerleader, no matter how silly the prompt. Rita lounged in the background, goading everyone on when it looked like they might chicken out. Scott kept score, until Kelsey called him out for giving himself extra points. There were a few precious moments when Mason almost felt normal again.

Soon, however, she craved a bit of stillness. Whatever was wrong in her heart squeezed tighter and tighter, until she could barely fake a smile.

Ashlee nudged her. "Hey. Wanna come up to the roof with me and tango with Bigfoot?" That was the silly code they'd come up with so their parents wouldn't know they smoked weed.

There was sympathy in her eyes. Mason grimaced. Things had gotten a little better since working things out with her Misfits, but not by much. She'd been hiding it pretty well, though. At least, she'd thought.

"I mean, I'd like to, but I probably shouldn't," she whispered back. She was technically off duty, but that didn't mean the Saviors couldn't attack at any moment.

"That's okay. You could still come sit with me if you want. If you needed a break."

Gratefulness washed over her. "Yeah, maybe just for a bit."

They slipped out of the group and climbed to the roof, sitting on the ledge to let their legs dangle. It was comfortably quiet for a while and Mason did end up taking a hit, though just a small one. It was enough to loosen something in her chest.

"I miss all those days we hung out in our basement," Ashlee murmured. "It wasn't ever anything special until we had all of you to fill it with. Actually, it kinda scared me before. There were spiders and stuff… That's, like, silly when I think about it now."

Mason smiled. "Yeah… Remember Mr. Funky Chicken?"

Ashlee giggled puffs of smoke. "Yes! Oh my god, and the murder mystery?"

"Hey, that was some intense _Law and Order _shit. That chicken was choked, _hard_."

Ashlee leaned back, snorting and kicking her legs. Smoke drifted from her nose.

"Dude, you look like a dragon."

Ashlee blinked teary eyes up at the stars. Slowly, her smile faded.

"Sometimes I wish my parents hadn't come." Immediately, her eyes went wide. "Tell me that doesn't make me a bad person."

The words brought on a pang of sadness. "It doesn't," Mason said. What she really wanted to say was, _Don't let those assholes make you feel this way. They were horrible parents and from what I can tell, the apocalypse hasn't changed that. _But she knew Ashlee would resist, so she boiled it down to, "You're not obligated to want them around."

"But they're family. Isn't that obligation enough?"

"No," Mason said firmly. "It's not enough. Blood only earns you so much, you know? They've gotta earn the rest, by being there for you. Being an actual support system."

Ashlee chewed doubtfully on her lip ring. "I just keep thinking about, you know…that day? When I tried to come out to them?"

Mason narrowed her eyes. It was one of the weeks she stayed at their place—unbeknownst to their parents, so she was hiding in the basement with Charlie. Ashlee had insisted she wanted them there for support, but that her parents might feel more open-minded if it were strictly a family conversation.

The living room was directly above the closet they crouched in, so they heard all of it pretty clearly. Ashlee confessing that she was asexual, and her parents asking what the fuck that even meant.

"That's not even real, honey," Deb had said. "Don't you think you're just upset you haven't had a date in a while?"

"Maybe take that shit out of your face, and they'll be more interested," Everett had said. "Guys don't like girls with a bunch of piercings. It's not flattering."

"_Shut up_, Dad," came Tanner's heated reply. "She doesn't give a fuck if guys are interested or not. You're the only one looking unflattering around here, anyway."

It inevitably led to a shouting match, and ended with Ashlee retreating to the basement in tears. Mason and Charlie sat on either side of her for hours, holding her hands and offering what encouragement they could. Tanner joined them once he could get away from their parents, with an armful of food and one of Ashlee's favorite books. He read passages from it in over-the-top, angry whispers to get her to laugh.

"Yeah," Mason said. "I remember."

"Tan said that should've been it. We were eighteen—well, he was, and I was about to be. He said that should've been the day we left. But every time I thought about it, I felt guilty. Mom cried a lot looking at baby pictures. She said she never wanted us to grow up and leave."

Mason thought about Gina. How whenever Mason didn't want to do something she wanted her to, she questioned Mason's love for her. How whenever Mason cried, she used her own tears as combat. How Mason had bought into all of it, until the day the Misfits convinced her to leave.

"Yeah, but it's not fair of them to use that against you," she said. "Look, I spent a lot of time at your house, like, incognito, so I know how often they fought and how often they tried dragging you and Tan into it. That wasn't fair of them. It's not your job to fix their marriage or make them feel good about themselves or whatever. Maybe it's not my place to say this, but honestly, if they make you feel like crap, then you don't owe them anything. Just because we're all stuck in one place together doesn't mean you have to want them around."

Ashlee sighed. "Yeah. I know that's right. It's just…weird having them around, I guess. I got used to it being just us in that tiny apartment."

"Those were the good old days, huh?"

"Definitely."

Mason patted her knee, sensing she wanted to drop the subject. "That bowl cashed? C'mon. Let's spray ourselves down with Febreze and see if Monty and Dray are finished with that cobbler."

~m~

"Alright, sweetheart, let's start with some simple jumps and landings. Show me your jump squat."

Mason glared flatly. "…Really? I'm not some fucking greenie, you know."

Jesus' eyes widened in mock amazement.

"I know Krav Maga—"

"Ooh."

"—and I practice boxing—"

"Yeah?"

"_Yes_. I didn't come to you to learn shit I already know."

Jesus nodded very seriously. Then he said, "Jump squats. Ten reps."

Seething, Mason ran through the reps. Jesus smirked.

"Bit sloppy. You let me get under your skin."

"It's not my fault. You're so good at it."

His eyes sparkled. "Thank you. But you're gonna need to learn how to balance that if you want to do what I do. You need to be able to act smoothly, no matter what's shaking you up inside."

Mason frowned at her shoes. What he said made sense, and it pissed her off that she couldn't disagree.

"Now, since you've _clearly_ mastered the jump squat," he continued, voice still thick with amusement, "let's move on to the broad jump. We'll start with a manageable distance for now, then work up from there."

Mason followed his instruction, which built slowly in intensity, using the forest around them as obstacles, until she was dripping with sweat. He was insufferable through all of it, taking every opportunity to tease and irritate her, but he was also knowledgeable and patient and she couldn't deny that.

When they stopped for the day, he leaned against a tree while she guzzled her water.

"You're a quick learner," he said. "But you're a lot clumsier than I was expecting."

She glowered and kept drinking.

"I guess my sister was kind of the same way. She was a dancer and a gymnast. Really talented. But outside of that she was a total klutz."

He eyed her expectantly, waiting for her to say something. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"Anyway, I think we'll spend one more day like this and then I'll take you into town."

Mason paused. "Already?"

"Hey, that's your idea. Unless you've got some other way to pay me for these lessons."

She didn't respond. It was true that it was her idea, paying him by aiding him on his recruiting and scavenging patrols. Until she talked with Ezekiel about this, she had no right to offer anything else but her own free time. And until she was positive Jesus really was trustworthy, she wasn't letting on about her group or anything they had. It wasn't like he was telling her more than the bare minimum anyway. They were both feeling each other out.

"So it's settled then," he said when she remained silent. "We'll just be there long enough to drag a few blocks, but it's the perfect place to advance your training."

The town he spoke of wasn't too far, but it also wasn't within the circle of her usual patrol. It made her nervous, agreeing to venture so far from home. What if something happened while she was gone?

But that could happen anytime, no matter how close she was. Something could be happening right now, as they spoke…

Anxiety prickled her neck. "Okay. I'll meet you here, same time tomorrow then."

"Sure. Later, sweetheart."

She watched him leave, and only took off at a jog once she was sure he was gone. She saw no walkers along the way, which unnerved her. Where the hell were they?

Relief broke over her as she approached the gate, saw Kelsey and Richard on watch, saw everything still intact.

But a sliver of unease lingered in her chest, and she didn't realize why until she joined everyone in the dining hall for dinner. It wasn't quite so lively as last night, playing truth or Jenga with the Misfits, but there was still an air of vibrancy that put her on edge.

It was only partly to do with her own hang-ups, whatever darkened her heart these days. It was just that…everyone seemed more relaxed than they had since she'd met them. She assumed the reason was that they hadn't encountered the Saviors since the blizzard, but did that really mean they were gone? It couldn't. It was dangerous to think that, just like with the walkers. She didn't want the group getting complacent.

_But what if _you're _wrong? _a little voice whispered. _It's not like you're at your most civil these days._

No, she'd…she'd gotten better. She wasn't the way she was when she first encountered Ezekiel, certainly not how she was back in Georgia with—

_Don't. You left. You don't have the right to think about her anymore._

She swallowed the pain and told herself it was better to be cautious than caught off guard. In this case, she would've loved to be wrong. But she wasn't about to throw vigilance out the window, even if it meant she couldn't truly enjoy an upbeat dinner with the group.

The next day was much the same. Instead of her previous solitary workouts, she led her combat students in drills until ten, when she broke for "patrol". She met Jesus in the same spot, and he started her on yesterday's reps before proceeding to more advanced moves.

Though she was able to keep up fairly well, he was still much better than her, and she couldn't help thinking of the person she was before…well, before so many things. Before Gina and the Stantons' fancy basement. Before realizing how much of an outlet running at night was, and also how sketchy that could be as a teenage girl. Before her lessons with Rita, and gaining confidence with each muscle she toned.

Gina used to call her bunny, because when she found her, after hitchhiking all the way from Kansas to L.A., Mason was pretty much the same girl she'd been back home. Shy and awkward and unwilling to risk friendships because friendship hurt. Anything remotely like closeness _hurt_. She never stood up for herself. Never spoke unless spoken to. She skittered away from anything that might intrude on her own private bubble.

She'd come a long way. But sometimes that girl still crawled up from the depths. Sometimes she screamed without a sound in dark corners, and Mason felt the ripple in who she was now.

The next day, Jesus drove her into the town. She kept her hand on her gun the whole ride there, trying to be unobtrusive about it. But Jesus noticed anyway. It plastered a smirk on his face the entire drive.

"Now, there's not a whole lot left here that we haven't scavenged already, but I keep coming back because sometimes people pass through, thinking they might find something," he explained, parking in front of a dusty post office.

Mason shook her head. "And you just…bring these strangers back to your people."

"Well, not if I think they're a threat. I get a feel for them first. See if they're…the bad guys." He stepped outside, but paused when he realized she hadn't moved. "What's up?"

"What…" But she stopped herself. She couldn't bring herself to ask the question. It made her feel vulnerable and stupid. "Never mind."

They patrolled the streets, on the off chance they found someone or something of valuable. Mostly, it was a ghost town, although Mason spotted some sci-fi books she thought Renee might appreciate and a new coat for Ava.

"That's a bit small for you, don't you think?" Jesus said when he saw it.

She bristled warily, but when she spoke her voice was cool. "I'll shrink into it."

As they moved, she kept her eyes open for signs an ambush may by lying in wait. But she saw no one, and after a while, this slipped from her mind. Jesus made frequent stops and gave her new workouts centered around whatever obstacles they came across—stair jumps, wall dips, dead hangs. Her muscles burned by the time Jesus called it a day, but it was a good feeling. It was like weakness singeing away. It was like forgetting.

"So," he said as they climbed into his truck. "Do you trust me yet?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Do you trust me?"

He smiled easily. "Yes."

"That easy, huh?"

"I've had a lot of practice."

"Sorry, but I'm not there yet."

"That's cool. Just thought I'd ask so we could do away with this pesky omission business."

She glared straight ahead out the windshield. "How about you ask me again at the end of the week."

"As you wish, sweetheart." He mimed a bow and pulled out of town.

~m~

By the end of the week, she already felt much stronger. More capable of facing things head-on. Physically, at least. Jesus added sparring to the rotation, and he kicked her ass in general, but she was getting better each day.

She brought this experience back home with her, slowly integrating it into the lessons she led. She went to bed exhausted each night, but feeling as though she had at least _accomplished _something. That she was contributing something good.

"Alright," Jesus said that seventh day. "Moment of truth."

Mason raised an eyebrow.

He spread his arms and asked, "Do you trust me?"

She caught herself before she could laugh and said wryly, "You sound like you're asking me out on a magic carpet ride or some dumbass Disney shit. How romantic."

"Ooh, you're quick to flatter yourself. Sorry, but you're not, um, my _type_."

"_Ah_. Hell yeah." She held her hand up for a high-five. He returned it, confused, so she explained, "I'm bi. Pretty much all my friends are queer as fuck. So it's nice to see the new world belongs to the gays."

He smiled slowly. "Your friends?" She had never mentioned her friends outright before, and the implication in his tone was not lost on her.

So she said, "Yes. Yes, I trust you."

It surprised her how confident she felt in her answer. As much as she and Jesus antagonized each other, she knew if she were in a real pinch, she could count on him to help her out, and that she would do the same for him.

"I mean, I totally hate your guts and wanna kick you half the time," she continued, grinning. "But, still."

His eyes twinkled. "Aw, sweetheart. I hate you, too."

"So now that we're past the omissions, I was wondering—"

Gunfire cut her off.

Adrenaline kicked through her so fast the trees spun. She turned toward the sound; they were deep in the forest, so it was hard to tell, but it seemed like it was coming from up the highway a piece.

She drew her gun and glanced at Jesus.

"Is that them?" By his tone, she knew he didn't mean her people.

"Probably."

He nodded, threw his hood up and tied his scarf around the lower part of his face, obscuring his features. "Lead the way."

She took off running, bounding through the trees with renewed energy. Her muscles no longer ached from the long day. Vitality flooded through them, enriched by all they'd learned they could do.

When the trees thinned, Mason spotted a large, dark van parked on the highway. Saviors crouched behind it on the side closest to her, aiming at a pileup of cars that had been moved to the side but not quite off the road. She glimpsed a few of her people behind it, Everett and Monty among them.

She paused to find a good, sheltering tree, then lined her sight.

She took down a man with a big semiautomatic first. As soon as his brains splattered against the van, the others whipped around. She ducked behind the trunk as the bullets flew.

Jesus was nowhere to be seen. At least until she looked up into a neighboring tree and spotted him crouched a few branches up. His stance was effortless, as though he'd been born in a fucking tree.

He gave her a cheeky wave. She flipped him off.

A pause in the gunfire. She peeked out to return a few shots, catching one man in the shoulder before she was forced back into hiding.

Jesus took his shot then, right through a Savior's leg. He crumpled and his buddies turned on Jesus, giving Mason a chance to return fire.

The back doors on the van flew open, and five other men jumped out. She managed to take one down as they charged toward her, but it quickly became apparent that she needed to switch gears to close combat.

Shoving her gun in its holster, she leaped for the nearest tree branch and gave a powerful swing as the men loomed. Bark cut painfully into her palms, but her grip didn't loosen. Not yet. Thrown by this new tactic, the Saviors practically walked right into it as she slammed forward.

She let go the moment her boots made contact with a Savior's chest. His body cushioned her fall. She rolled with the momentum, dodging another man as he kicked at her head.

In a second, she took in her options.

Jesus was still exchanging fire with the other Saviors. But if she could put enough distance between her and these fuckers to properly aim her gun…

She scrambled to her feet, hand at the holster, and the men gave chase. There wasn't a chance to pull her weapon, however, before someone hit her from the side. The force knocked her off her feet. Her shoulder bashed into one of the van's doors as she fell, spinning her enough that she landed on her ass instead of her face.

The man loomed like an angry bull, and for the first time she realized he wielded a tire thumper. He was too close for her to grab her gun or wrest her iron free of its sling.

But her eyes landed on a hubcap glinting next to her, debris from the car crash.

Time did not slow. Her reaction speed ramped up, matching pace with her thundering heart.

She snatched the hubcap and held it up in time to block the tire thumper from bashing her skull open.

A shocked gasp rushed out of her. The man stared, momentarily stunned, and she took the opportunity to kick him in the balls.

He stumbled back, dropping the tire thumper, and doubled over to puke. Mason lurched to her feet while he was distracted and swung the hubcap into his temple.

A new flurry of gunshots split the air. Something hot cut the side of her head and suddenly she was on the ground.

Through the ringing in her ears, she heard the van roar to life and speed away. Dazed, she sat up, and felt an uncomfortable warmth run down the side of her face.

"_Mason_!"

She turned in slow motion as Monty and Renee raced over. Richard and Everett strode toward the bodies on the ground, one of which was moaning.

"Mason!" Monty's hand clamped down over the wound. She winced.

Renee dug through her backpack and pulled out a roll of gauze. "Let me see."

Monty drew back, though he stayed close enough to scoop her hand into his.

"The hell do you think you're doing, getting your ass shot like that?" The anger in his voice wasn't terribly impressive, breathless as it was.

"Well, it…actually wasn't my ass that was shot. It was my head."

Renee snorted. "Same difference."

"How bad is it?" Monty asked.

"Just skimmed her. It should stop bleeding soon." Then she patted Mason's cheek and addressed her directly. "'Tis but a scratch."

"Ah." Mason smiled. "A flesh wound."

"Hey! Back the fuck up!"

Alarmed, she sat up. Her stomach sank when she spotted Everett holding Jesus at gunpoint at the edge of the road.

"Wait!" she called. "Don't shoot him."

"Excuse me?" Everett growled without looking at her. Richard glanced up from the surviving Savior he stood over, confused but less combative about it.

"He was helping us," she explained and groaned inwardly, realizing she was about to have a lot of explaining to do. "He's a friend."

~m~

Ezekiel was understanding about it. Eventually.

At first, he was furious, and Mason didn't blame him. Going off on her own when she said she was patrolling to meet a virtual stranger who could very well have been lying to her about his intentions. In retrospect, it felt even more brainless than she originally thought.

All of this was understandable, but it bewildered her a little when he said, "You could have disappeared and not one of us would have had the slightest clue as to your whereabouts. We could have _lost _you."

It made her feel a little panicky until she reasoned it out.

_He means the lessons. I wouldn't be around to keep those up. I wouldn't be around to help defend the group. _Yes, that made sense. _And I could've been tortured for information. He doesn't know I wouldn't have said anything._

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I know it was stupid. But…I just didn't want to involve anyone else because, if he _was _dangerous, I wanted that to be on me."

"Be that as it may, you are a part of _my _realm. Should any ill befall you, no matter your intention to rest blame solely on yourself, my shoulders would feel the weight of it as well."

She bowed her head. "Yes, your…your Majesty." It still felt weird to address him this way. Like a goofy line in a play.

It was quickly determined that Jesus was not dangerous, however, and that her assessment was "mercifully astute", as Ezekiel put it.

"What will be your relationship to this kingdom, friend Jesus?" he asked once he was done scolding Mason.

Almost everyone had gathered in the auditorium with them, minus those on watch or patrol. Jesus looked a little nervous at being so outnumbered, but Mason stood at his side in quiet assurance.

"Well, I'm hoping for friendship. That's always what I hope for when I meet people," Jesus replied. "But…maybe I'm off here, but you're at war with the Saviors, aren't you?"

Ezekiel dipped his head. "We are."

"That's a little unfortunate."

He went on to explain that his people had already pledged their service to Negan, and that any alliance to an open rebellion might bring hell down on them.

"There's some things we might be able to provide," Jesus continued. "But I'm sure my leader, Gregory, would insist on a more…_clandestine _approach. I haven't told him that I'm giving Mason fighting lessons. I'm not sure he would approve of that."

Mason raised an eyebrow. She hadn't considered he might be in the same boat as far as keeping secrets.

What they ended up with was a tentative alliance, under which anything exchanged would be handled with extreme care and consideration.

"I think we can still keep up our lessons, though, long as we're careful about it," Jesus said with a wink at Mason. "I'd hate to miss out on that charming personality of yours."

Which left an entirely different matter on their plate, one Jesus was excused from.

In one of the building's disused rooms, Everett stood guard over two Saviors. One was unconscious and unable to offer his identity. The other, the same who nearly killed Mason with a tire thumper, had sneered his name between curses and insults.

"We can't let this Kurt guy go back to the Saviors," Sam said. "Not now he's seen this place."

"Yes, I understand that," Ezekiel said gravely.

"So what are we waiting for?" Tanner demanded. "Let's kill them and be done with it."

"Honestly, he's right," Renee said. "We can't be wasting our medical supplies on them."

"Wait, but…" Mason fidgeted before carrying on. "Isn't this sort of the opportunity we've been hoping for? These guys would know where Negan is, how many men they have, how many outposts they have. We could…get that from them."

There was silence as the implication sunk in. Then Monty stepped forward.

"She's right," he said. "We've been groping around in the dark, hoping we'll just stumble across all the information we need. Now it's right here in front of us."

"Of course she's right," Rita spoke up impatiently. "She sees the trouble these men bring. They are rats, but they are rats with a purpose. We must squeeze what we can out of them." Her thin fingers clenched, as if she meant to do so with her own hands.

"But is that who we are?" Ezekiel asked. "Mistreating prisoners for our own gain? Is that what this kingdom shall become?"

Everett threw his hands up. "Whoa, whoa, hold on. I think we're missing a very important alternative here."

"And what is this alternative you speak of?"

"Pledging ourselves."

Uproar met his words, though Mason noticed a few who seemed to be considering them.

It took a moment of shouting for Everett to hold the floor again.

"Look, we've fought for too long against these guys and gotten nowhere," he said. "Who's to say it won't be better the other way? They're obviously capable. They've got people, guns. If we stop now, we could work with them, maybe forge an alliance. Be better off in the long run."

"But Dad…we wouldn't be working with them, we'd be working _for _them," Ashlee spoke up, twirling her hair nervously.

"Yeah, we're not kneeling for these assholes," Tanner agreed. Others added their ascent, and Everett fell silent with a scowl.

The meeting went on for hours and concluded at an impasse. The prisoners would be kept another day, until their fate could be determined.

"Mason," Ezekiel called as everyone exited the auditorium. "I would ask you to remain a moment."

She waited nervously while the others filed out, until it was just her and Ezekiel standing on stage.

Well, and Shiva. She was sprawled on her back, paws in the air, the way her old cat, Kumquat, used to lie when he found a good patch of sun.

"The beast has my envy," Ezekiel said, following her gaze. "To be great and intimidating enough to laze around, sunrise to sunset, menacing all who pass with a toothy yawn."

"Oh, that's goals, huh? That's why you're doing this king business?" Mason teased.

He chuckled. "Alas, Lady Mason, your intuition unveils me. I grant…it is this intuition I seek counsel from. If you would indulge me."

"Uh…yeah. Sure."

He sat on the edge of the stage, so she sat next to him.

"It is your belief that interrogation of this…man would be advantageous to our cause." He looked at her for confirmation.

"I… Yes. I do."

He sighed. "Many would seem to agree with you, and I _do _see the rationale behind this. It is not that I am blind to it. But, if I may make a confession, I am not certain I have the stomach for such acts."

Mason frowned at the floor. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because we all have suffered. And while I do not wish to claim anyone's suffering more or less severe than another's, there are…differences. Between my people's experiences and yours, that I believe hold some significance. You were out there longer. You were out there alone, or at least without companions who could support you. This group remained large enough on their pilgrimage to deter the depravity of man, but I have heard you were misfortunate enough to encounter a number of villainies and vileness. I do not wish you to have braved this at all, but I sense wisdom has emerged from the experience."

She almost asked what his story was. The group was so close-knit it was easy to forget he wasn't with them for most of their journey.

"I mean…I guess you could call it wisdom." She chose her next words carefully. "I'm not sure…there's a right answer to this. I think, if you want to live in this new world, whatever you believe to be right is held up by a bunch of other compromises. It's not black and white. I don't think it ever was. There…are very few lines I won't cross to protect my loved ones. Things I never dreamed I'd have the stomach for. Things maybe you don't…get to come back from."

She looked at Ezekiel. So kind and hopeful and _good_. She wanted to protect that, too. The world couldn't lose that.

"But those compromises are _my _compromises," she said. "They don't have to be yours. We all know you will do whatever you think is right to protect us, but you also need to think of yourself. You're the only one who knows what you can live with without losing who you are. If you think we shouldn't interrogate this guy, we can find another way."

He stared silently into the distance for a long time. Then he nodded. "Thank you for your counsel, my Lady. You may take your leave. And please send Jerry in to see me."

"Yes, your Majesty."

~m~

Ezekiel called a meeting early the next morning, having decided that they would indeed interrogate the Saviors. The general consensus was approval, though no one was jumping for joy, either. There were quite a few who volunteered for the job, Mason among them.

When it came time for Ezekiel to pick, his eyes met hers, and something passed between them before he announced that she would be the one to do it.

Ice shivered in her belly, but she simply nodded.

He pulled her aside after the meeting to ask if she was sure, insisting he could find someone else for the job.

But it had to be her. It couldn't be anyone else. Besides, she'd been the one to suggest it in the first place.

She was led to the room where the men were held. Kelsey and Scott stood guard outside.

Scott touched her shoulder as she reached for the door. "Do you need us to come in with you?"

But his voice was soft and so much like his son's, and she couldn't imagine allowing him to be privy to something like this. She shook her head.

The room was small and dim, lit by a solitary bulb. The man whose name they were unsure of slouched in one corner, bandages stemming the bullet wound in his leg. Kurt glared up from the opposite wall, hands zip tied behind his back.

"Oh, look," he said. "It's the gladiator."

She blinked. "That's actually pretty dope."

"You're wasting your time. Stupid bitch."

"I don't know. Any time spent with such a sparkling personality couldn't possibly be wasted."

He eyed her a moment before smirking humorlessly. "Shame you don't consider switching sides. Boss would get a kick out of you."

Her spine went rigid, but she bit back what she wanted to say.

_He's fucking with you. Don't let him._

Out of nowhere, she found herself thinking of Gina. Of how she might handle this situation. When she spoke, her voice was glittering and smooth.

"That's actually who I'd like to talk about. Your boss. Negan, right?"

Kurt snorted. "Fuck off."

Mason punched him, making her knuckles sing. She didn't think before she did it. She couldn't think after. Her head filled with a strange ringing.

The man in the corner blinked, still looking dazed. Kurt barked a laugh.

"That all you got, you dumb cunt?"

"I don't think you wanna ask me that. Tell me about Negan. Where is he?"

"I'm not telling you shit."

She punched him again, twice this time. His nose crunched. Blood ran down his lips.

The ringing grew louder.

She crouched before him, her body light in a way she'd never experienced before. It wasn't a nice feeling. It was more like she'd been detached from gravity and left adrift.

Something filled her chest, a balloon about to burst.

In the back of her mind, she wondered if she was going about this the right way. Was there a right way to beat information out of somebody?

The balloon got bigger. Unbearable pressure against her sternum.

She stared him down. "Where's Negan?"

He spit in her face. "Go to hell, bitch."

The balloon burst.

She slammed her forehead into his already-broken nose, hard enough that his head cracked against the wall.

Something cold put her body on autopilot. Fog covered her mind.

~m~

She wasn't quite herself when she stepped out of that room. Her hands shook. Her knuckles bloody and raw.

Someone gripped her shoulders. Scott.

"Mason. Honey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Her voice came out strong. A ventriloquist's voice. "I couldn't get anything out of them. Not yet. I'll try again tomorrow."

She slipped past him and Kelsey before they could ask any more questions.

Mechanically, she made her way to the auditorium. Others watched her pass. They just wanted to know if she'd found anything out, she told herself. It wasn't because they saw her differently now. It wasn't because they were afraid.

She must have reported to Ezekiel, but she couldn't remember it. She couldn't remember making her way back to the house, or washing the blood from her hands. She blinked and she was sitting on the edge of the tub, staring at the wall.

A knock on the door, though she didn't know why. It was wide open.

"Mason?" Dave approached hesitantly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." That voice again. Empty. Not her own.

He sat next to her. Took her hands in his to examine them.

"You didn't wrap them," he said.

"I didn't know I had to. I've never done something like that before."

"I know you haven't." He eyed her gently. "You don't have to ever again if you don't want to."

"Yes, I do. I didn't get anything from them today."

"That's not what I mean and you know it."

Before they could say anything else, the sound of the front door opening announced the rest of the Misfits. Ava came running in a moment later.

"Macie!"

Mason caught her automatically and scooped her into her lap. She was more conscious of everything she did, holding her with exaggerated care. It felt like that night in Texas after killing those men, her very first kills.

Like her existence might pull the world down.

But Ava hugged her as if none of this mattered. As if she were still just Mason and nothing had changed.

Blinking back tears, Mason rested her cheek on Ava's head. "I love you so big, baby girl."

Ava squeezed her tighter. "I love _you _so big, Macie!"

Dave watched them, eyes welling with sadness. But he didn't say anything else, simply linked fingers with Mason.

The other Misfits didn't take long to find them. None of them said a word as they gathered around her and instead lent comfort through proximity. Ava seemed perfectly content snuggled against her chest. The cold inside slunk away to some dark corner within her.

It was very warm in their arms.

~m~

Someone shouting her name jarred her from sleep. She lurched up in bed, heart stuttering.

"Wha—what's going on?"

Ezekiel had insisted she take the day off after yesterday, so she'd slept in. She wasn't sure what time it was, but daylight slanted in through the window in a way that made her think it was late, maybe almost noon.

Renee stood in the doorway, eyes wild with fear. Blood trickled down the side of her face.

"Kurt got a hold of Ava. He's _fucking_ _got Ava_."

Everything in her felt paralyzed, but she was on her feet before her brain fully processed the movement. She snatched her gun and her iron on the way out the door.

Commotion near the gate led her forward. She pushed through the crowd, wondering why the hell they were just standing there, doing nothing, until she spotted Kurt.

One arm gripped Ava tightly to his chest. His free hand held a jagged shard of glass to her neck.

His good eye, the one Mason hadn't thoroughly blackened, darted to her as she broke through the crowd. He pressed the tip of the glass harder against Ava's throat.

"Don't even think about it." She barely heard him over Ava's wail, the thumping of blood in her own ears.

She skidded to a halt, every nerve buzzing with panic and fury. She was close enough to see blood on Ava's skin, staining the collar of her shirt.

Her knuckles went pale around the gun. Could she take the shot? Could she risk it with Ava that close, with the glass against her neck? She didn't like the odds of it.

"Let the child go, Kurt." Ezekiel's voice came from somewhere beside her. "You may leave in peace, but no harm may come to the child."

"Peace?" Kurt snorted and nodded at Mason. "Look at what that bitch did to me. You won't really let me go. You can't now, can you? Only way out of here is with a souvenir. Now _open the gate_. I won't ask again."

"Take me then." It was Mason's voice, but it emerged from a part of her she didn't recognize.

"_Mason_," Ezekiel hissed, but she ignored him.

"You want someone, take me. I did that to you. You can have your revenge."

Kurt's eyes glittered. "What do you think I'm doing with this one here?" He bounced Ava in his grip, turned to sneer at her.

Ava twisted and sank her teeth into his nose.

He screamed and dropped her, and she lay on the ground for a moment, dazed and sobbing.

Mason darted forward, scooping her away from Kurt and handing her to Charlie. Every movement felt like a lick of flames, everything she saw was red.

She lunged for Kurt, sweeping his legs from under him the way Jesus had taught her. His tailbone cracked on the cement. She was on him before he could recover.

Her fist came down hard on his face. Once. Twice. Again. Her knees squeezed around his torso, holding him place. After the first few blows, his squirming lessened and then stilled completely.

Knuckles burned. Pain and blistering red, but she didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Not until someone's arms ensconced her and yanked her away.

She thrashed. "_Let me go_!"

"Princess, enough. He's…he's dead, I think."

Tanner was bigger than her. Muscular. But with all the training she'd been doing, she was pretty sure she could break free.

"My Lady, please." Ezekiel stepped into view, his voice low and urgent. "You have delivered your justice. You must cease this now."

"Yeah, come on, not in front of Ava," Tanner grunted in her ear.

"Ava." The name breezed out of her, wild and breathless. Only when she spotted her, clinging to Charlie, did the fight leave her body.

Tanner let go cautiously and she stumbled forward, hands outstretched, desperate to make sure Ava was alright.

When Ava saw her, she cringed against Charlie's shoulder.

Mason froze, suddenly dizzy. "Baby girl? It's…it's just me."

For the first time, she realized how much blood was on her hands, splattered up her arms. Ava had witnessed the whole thing.

Her throat felt thick. The world wavered as her eyes filled with tears.

"Please. It's me. It's Macie."

Ava whimpered. Charlie brushed a hand through her hair.

Renee grabbed Mason's hand. "C'mon," she murmured. "She just needs a little space."

Mason turned, but she wasn't sure how. Her legs felt numb. Everyone watched her, but she tried not to read their expressions.

"How did this happen?" Ezekiel's voice rose, steady and clear, over the sickening thrum in her ears. "Everett, you were standing guard."

Her head snapped up. Everett stood at the edge of the group, holding the back of his head.

"Fucker got the jump on me," he said. "Wouldn't stop pounding on the door, so I went in to shut him up, but he was waiting. Slammed my head against the wall."

Mason twitched her hand out of Renee's and strode toward him. "How? They were zip tied."

He eyed her disdainfully. "I don't know. Broke out of 'em somehow."

Rage trembled all the way down to her fingertips, but she reined herself in. She remembered Jesus telling her she had to get a grip on all the things rattling her. She remembered Gina and her cool, smiling demeanor.

She turned and spied the other Savior crouched near Kurt, quivering fearfully. She hadn't noticed him before, maddened as she was.

Her gaze flicked to Ezekiel. There was grim understanding in his, and she thought maybe he knew what she was going to say before she said it.

"We can't keep him here."

Nobody had to ask what she meant by that.

"You are right," Ezekiel said darkly. "We cannot."

Mason went to pick up her weapons, abandoned in her blind rush to rescue Ava. The Savior's low whimpers built to a shout.

"Wait—wait, stop! You don't have to. You don't have to do this, please! I—I won't hurt anybody, I won't!"

She loomed over him and he cowered, sobbing.

"No, no, I didn't do nothing, it was _his _idea! I just tagged along, please, you gotta believe me!"

Mason raised her iron. The man pissed himself.

"_I'll—I'll tell you anything_! _I'll tell you anything you want to know_! _But I don't wanna die, please, please, don't kill me_."

She hesitated. "Do you know where Negan is?"

Desperation lit his eyes. "Yes! Yes, I do! I know where he is, and I—I know where his outposts are. I can draw a map!"

Mason glanced at Ezekiel. He nodded.

She grabbed the man's arm and hauled him up. "On your feet."

~m~

There were five outposts that the Savior, Adam, knew of.

"They're not all inhabited at once, though," he explained. "We switch it around to fool people, trap them sometimes. At most, two of them could have about ten to fifteen men."

Negan lived at what they called the Sanctuary, a rambling defunct factory nearly ten miles east.

"There's usually about seventy men there at any given time. They've got guns and supplies for days. They could bury you in firepower, but they won't unless they have to. You guys haven't attacked them or posed a significant threat, at this point you're just the stray alley cat they haven't been able to cage."

When Adam had given them all the information he could, one of Everett's friends, Wes, took him back to the closet where they'd been keeping him. A woman named Paula and her brother, James, followed. Mason watched them go through narrowed eyes.

"It is not a permanent arrangement," Ezekiel assured her. "The guard on him will remain doubled regardless."

"So what's the plan?" Renee said, brushing her hand over the coordinates Adam had drawn on a map.

"We cannot hope to vanquish them in a rudimental attack. They eclipse us by at least sixty souls."

"Plus all the guns he mentioned," Bea added. Unconsciously, she reached behind her for Sam's hand.

"We can't fight them _at all_," Everett said. "It's fucking nuts we're even considering it."

Some of the others murmured their agreement.

"Does no one remember a few months ago? We're lucky they didn't slaughter us!"

"We don't stand a chance!"

"We should surrender before this gets any worse."

"No." Tanner stepped forward. "That's _bullshit_. These assholes don't have any right to us or our shit."

"What kind of existence would we even be looking at if we _did _surrender?" Charlie added. "Not a great one, I'm betting."

Deb whirled on her. "And so it would be better to let them all gun us down?"

Mason tensed, ready to intervene.

But Ezekiel held his hands out to curtail the brewing argument.

"Dear friends, I hear your concerns. It appears as though these villains hold all the power." He paused, and his eyes glittered. "But I believe that it only _appears_ this way. Hope casts a radiant shield for the valiant and the just. There will come a solution out of this mire of tribulations, I am sure of it. I _believe _in the strength of our unified ideal, that dream of a better world. We will not simply seek that world, we will _build it for ourselves_. _We _have that power. I _believe_."

It was a pretty speech. It seemed to move the rest of them. But the words couldn't touch Mason. She kept her eyes resolutely on the map, trying to figure out a way.

If they could somehow get them to use up all their ammo…

"Jerry, Monty, Sam, Mason, I wish to speak with you four privately. The rest of you, I bid return to your everyday routines and preparations. Indeed, even in the dark, life carries on."

Mason jolted hearing her name called, but tried to suppress the instinct to shrink self-consciously.

Ezekiel continued the discussion in a graver tone, asking each of them how they thought things should proceed, if maybe more consideration should be given to Everett's point of view.

Mason listened with growing nerves as first Jerry, then Monty, then Sam answered. It encouraged her that none of them agreed with Everett and had their own well-thought out answers as to why.

When Ezekiel turned to her, she gripped her wrist to keep from fidgeting. She was suddenly starkly aware that she was the youngest of the five of them.

"So many things have already been taken from us, but we've come so far in spite of that," she said. "We may keep our lives if we surrender, but we wouldn't keep much else. We would never be free. We would never be who we are now. And not just us, but future generations. I don't want Ava growing up just to devote her life to these assholes, to live in fear that it's not enough, to never live for herself. That's not what I brought her here for."

They listened to her the same way they listened to each other. She tried not to seem surprised by this. Once it was clear they were all in agreement, they discussed what moves might be made against the Saviors now they were better informed. Mason mentioned her idea about the ammo, but no one was quite sure how to get the Saviors to waste it in the first place. A few more ideas were tossed out, but none decided on. Ezekiel assured them they would figure something out, but they all left the meeting unsatisfied.

Mason stepped outside in a daze. Everything was strange. Renee had wrapped the wounds on her knuckles, left from Kurt's teeth and bones. Ezekiel had asked her opinion on this whole mess like it was something vital. The Misfits were at the house, probably comforting Ava, and she wasn't. Absently, she made a trail around the neighborhood.

Something pulled her to a halt. Hushed voices. Crying. She crept around an outbuilding to spy who it was.

"…you _ever _speak to me that way again, you shit. That brute's gonna get us killed, her and Ezekiel both."

Everett loomed over Tanner, who cowered on the ground, clutching his stomach. Red marks tinged his left cheek. Deb stood a little ways off with Ashlee in a firm grip, one hand pressed to her mouth to stifle her cries.

Everett raised his hand again.

Mason arrowed forward before she could fully process the scene. He didn't see her coming until she barreled into him. Head up, body low. Exact way Tanner showed her when he taught her how to play football.

Except she was a lot stronger now.

Her shoulder drove hard into his hip, her arms tangling around his legs. Though he was larger than her, she knocked him off his feet.

They rolled across the ground, struggling and snarling like angry dogs, until Mason finally managed to pin him with her hands around his throat.

That balloon was in her chest again, cracking her rib cage. She squeezed until Everett's eyes bulged with terror. Deb screamed, clutched at her shoulders. But Mason didn't consider letting go until she heard Ashlee begging.

"Mason, don't! You can't!"

"Mason!"

Ezekiel's voice cut through the chaos. Mason held on a second longer before jumping back, fingers trembling. It felt like there was lightning in her veins, fighting to break out. It felt like she had no place to put all this violence.

"What is this?" Ezekiel thundered.

But Mason held Everett's gaze and said, "You ever lay hands on him again, you ever lay hands on Ashlee, I will kill you, do you understand?"

He just laid there, eyes glittering with hate.

"Is this true?" Ezekiel said. Quieter now, but something new simmered below the surface. He stepped up to flank Mason. "Answer me now, Everett."

Everett said nothing, jaw clenched like this was nothing more than a passing inconvenience.

Mason wanted to kill him then and there.

Ezekiel looked at her, then back at Tanner, Ashlee and Deb. "I cannot allow this kind of grievance in my kingdom. I _will not_ allow it."

"You can't kill him, he—he didn't mean it," Deb pleaded. "He's never done anything like that before. He's just so—so stressed right now. It was the heat of the moment, he—"

"I do not care for your excuses, nor will I entertain them. No true man puts hands to his loved ones." Mason had never seen such loathing on Ezekiel's face before. "He shall be separated from the three of you for the time being, while I weigh what should be done with him."

He pulled his scepter sword from its sheath and aimed it at Everett.

"Get up."

He didn't move at first.

"Or I can have you executed where you lie," Ezekiel said. "If you prefer."

Lips twitching insolently, Everett climbed to his feet.

"Mason, retrieve whatever weapons he may have."

She did so, taking his gun and his knife. Then, because she could no longer resist the instinct, she knelt by Tanner. Ashlee crouched on his other side, arms hovering in case he needed the support.

Ezekiel's eyes softened. "Stay with your friends, my Lady," he said. "I shall deal with this one."

Mason dipped her head. "Thank you."

Deb hesitated as he led Everett away, throwing her kids a beseeching look. Neither of them acknowledged her.

Mason glared. "You think maybe you wanna get the hell out of here now?"

Resentment sparked in Deb's eyes, but she left without argument. Mason turned back to Tanner.

"Hey. Let's get you to Renee, okay?"

He shook his head, screwing up his eyes. Tears trailed out.

"He never hit me before, man. I didn't think… He just fucking…"

Ashlee sobbed quietly and hugged him as tightly as she could without hurting him. Mason pressed her forehead to his, blinking back her own tears.

"I won't let him hurt either of you again, and neither will Ezekiel. Okay?"

She pulled the two of them into her embrace.

~m~

Everett was banished at sunset, told that if he ever showed his face around here again that he would be swiftly dealt with.

Mason hoped she would have the pleasure.

Deb wailed as Monty and Richard escorted him roughly out of the gate. No one tried to comfort her.

The rest of the Misfits tried to keep Tanner and Ashlee away, but they insisted they needed to be there. Charlie held Ashlee's hand and Dave looped his arm through Tanner's and they all pressed in close to lend what solace they could.

Afterward, Ezekiel sought Mason out to let her know that Adam would be executed at dawn.

"Not tonight?" she asked.

"No. While I think it inappropriate to carry out the act here, where all may see, it would not be wise for any of our number to take him beyond the wall at this hour. He is injured, and well-guarded, and wholly terrified of you. He will pose no threat to us this night."

Shame flushed through her. "I'm sorry. About Kurt. I know I shouldn't have done that in front of everyone."

"Tensions run high as of late. In any case, I do not condemn you for the act. He was a vile man, and it is no sorrow when vile men meet vile ends." He laid a hand on her shoulder. "But I do hope I can rely on you to practice restraint if need be. Violence may lend itself to survival, but it must be channeled carefully, lest it break loose and set the world ablaze."

Mason nodded, then assured him she would put Adam to death. Ezekiel didn't ask her to do it, but she volunteered anyway. With as much blood as was already on her hands, she didn't see any reason not to.

When she returned home, Ava was already asleep. Mason didn't want to wake her, and she wasn't sure if she'd welcome her company anyway, so she laid down in the living room with the Misfits.

Tanner and Ashlee were already asleep, surrounded by the others. Mason stayed until the rest of them drifted off, then headed to the gym. She wasn't going to relax properly until this execution business was done.

She worked out for hours in a haze, until even the burn in her muscles and the sting in her wounds felt like numbness. Ezekiel's words echoed in her head. Jesus', too. But whatever had awakened inside her felt like a permanent beast, worrying her bones in its teeth. She wasn't sure how she could balance the new, frightening weight of it. She wasn't sure what cage could hold this violence.

Around three, she stumbled exhaustedly into a closet where basketballs and other equipment were kept. She slouched in the dark, tiny space and slept restlessly.

She rose a few hours later, groggy and unsatisfied. Her body ached as she crawled out of the closet. Sunlight radiated through the windows, tingeing the gym orange and gold.

Monty and Ezekiel waited for her at the gate, Adam propped between them. He was blindfolded, zip tied and whimpering. Mason felt like a stranger as she grabbed his arm from Ezekiel.

"You need not take him far," Ezekiel said. "I want you both returned as soon as possible."

"Of course, your Majesty," Monty replied.

Kelsey and a woman named Patricia opened the gate and then it was just her and Monty, trying to tune out Adam's incessant begging.

They walked for about ten minutes before it grated on Mason's last nerve. She stopped and pressed her gun to the back of Adam's head and he all but shrieked. Monty looked concerned but didn't try to stop her.

"Unless you want me to do it now, stop whining. If you didn't want us to kill you, maybe you shouldn't have done things that made us want to kill you."

He fell silent apart from the snuffle of his crying. They moved on.

"Mason," Monty said after a while. "Why are you doing this?"

She glanced at him, confused. "Because this dude needs to be executed, like, yesterday."

"No, why are _you _doing this? Why are you fighting so hard to be the one to do these things?"

Ice sighed through her veins, somehow gentle in its domination. "Because I have to be," she answered.

"No, you don't. That's bullshit. There were plenty of others who could've done this or interrogated Kurt."

"Look, I'm protecting you people from doing this shit, what the fuck else do you want from me?"

"Oh, _protecting _us. Because you're the only person who can do that, right?"

"No, I don't think…" But how could she put into words how she felt? That if she was already broken, already fucked beyond all repair, why shouldn't it be her that did all the horrible shit? Why should she let any one of them feel this way when it could just belong to her?

"Mason, stop."

Reluctantly, she did. Adam sagged in her grip but made no move to escape.

Monty eyed her steadily. Each word held its own individual weight.

"You don't have to do this alone. You aren't alone."

They were just words. They were just words. She opened her mouth to tell him this and a whimper came out. There was a truth inside her she wanted to deny and no longer could.

She wanted to be held through all the scary shit. Not just held, but to let herself _feel _held. To allow that for herself. She was tired of feeling solitude where there should have been comfort, tired of feeling cold where there should've been warmth. But she was so lost, she didn't know where to start.

"Monty—"

Gunfire cut her off. She ducked instinctively, felt heat whisk past her skin.

Monty crumpled, blood leaking from his skull.

Mason screamed and darted for him, careless with panic. Nonono this wasn't happening he was okay he was okay he would be okay.

But he didn't move when she touched him. He wouldn't breathe. Her hands fluttered uselessly while her vision blurred.

"Hands up, Mason."

She whirled, mouth twisting in a snarl when her eyes landed on Everett. Triumph lit his expression as he crept toward her, gun in hand. Part of her wondered where the fuck he'd gotten a gun. Most of her brimmed with too much bloodlust to give it a second thought.

"I'll fucking kill you, _I'll_ _fucking kill you_!"

She lunged. Everett fired and sent her back down with a winged shoulder.

"It's actually mind-blowing how stupid you are," he said.

Kill him, she had to kill him, she had to find a way. Her whole body quaked, her breath coming in heavy pants. Monty still did not move, but he couldn't be dead, she refused to believe it…

"Now you are going to make this easy on yourself, or you are going to make it painful. Which is it gonna be?"

She reached for her gun, grunting at the pain radiating from her shoulder. A fresh gush of blood ran down from the bullet hole.

He grinned, like he'd been hoping for this.

Then he whistled, two notes that had her blood freezing.

Another whistle answered him, and another. Another.

Two Saviors stepped out from behind trees to flank him, then two more, each one echoing each other's whistle until she was surrounded.

Her pulse roared with vengeance. She trembled with it.

No way out but through each and every one of them.

"I choose painful," she growled.

Everett shook his head. "Stupid."

"I didn't mean painful for me."

Her gun whipped out, but she never got the chance to fire. Something struck the back of her head and took the world away.

**A/N: So as you can probably figure, things are about to take a darker turn in the next one. I hope it's not too much, but then again, it is the Saviors and they suck. I'm sorry things have been so heavy lately, I promise to make up for it soon! But for now, thank you so much for reading and until next time, much love xoxo**


	20. Sleep

**A/N: Hello, all! Got a pretty intense one for you, so with that, I'll just warn that there are a few scenes that get a little gory and violent. We're going old-school emo with this chapter's song, which is "Sleep" by My Chemical Romance. As always, thank you so much to my readers and reviewers, your support means the world to me! Hope you enjoy.**

20\. Second Interlude, pt. 3: Sleep

The first thing Mason felt when consciousness returned was the wind rushing through her hair. It stung her eyes as she blinked them open.

"Finally awake, huh?"

Groggy with pain, her first thought was, _Oh, god, Elder Scrolls._

Then her eyes focused on Everett, sitting across from her. They were in the bed of a truck, her hands zip tied behind her back. Three other men sat around them. The one on her right was Adam.

Everything rushed back in a blistering wave. The gunshot, Everett whistling to the Saviors, and Monty, _Monty_…

Tears burned the back of her throat, and the rest of her burned with vengeance. With every ounce of restraint she possessed, she concentrated on the throbbing in her head and arm. Let them think she was too weak to move.

Still, she couldn't help saying, "You fucking coward."

Everett laughed. She'd never seen him so at ease. Bastard truly had found his people.

"Maybe I'm just smarter than you," he said. "I mean, you bought that half-assed lie about letting Kurt escape. That fucker could never get the jump on me, are you kidding? _I _cut the zip ties. _I _brought Ava to him."

A snarl broke through her defenses. The other men tensed and Adam pointed a gun at her. A shadow of apprehension lingered on his face, but otherwise he seemed pretty confident that gun would save him.

"Yeah, that's right," Everett sneered. "You all should have listened to me before. All this shit could've been avoided. But I'm tired of trying to convince you people. I sure as hell won't let you drag me down with you."

Mason's gaze flicked to the cab window. She could see three men sitting inside, which made a total of seven Saviors. Everyone in the back had guns. Everett had her fire iron slung casually over one shoulder. Panic crept up her spine.

_Improvise. _Jesus's words came back to her like a lifeline. _Your surroundings can get you out of some tight spots if you know how to use them._

Yes. Use everything you could use. Right.

But what the fuck could she use?

"So…you're taking me to the Sanctuary?" she asked, to buy herself some time.

"Finally decided to use that brain?" Everett said. "It's a lucky day for both of us. Negan wants to meet us. Of course, my guess is this meeting is gonna go a little better for me…"

"He wants me alive?"

"Ideally. Don't let that give you any ideas, though. We won't…"

She tuned him out as the truck slowed. They were about to turn right down a side road, so little used the forest on either side had nearly reclaimed it.

As she leaned over to get a better look, her shoulder bumped the bed wall and pain shot up her collarbone. The wound had been wrapped, she realized, although shoddily. A bit of fresh red welled through the fabric and she blinked.

_You've…done that before? Used your blood?_

_It was all I had._

She allowed only the briefest memory of this conversation, of Beth, before locking it up again.

Then, as the truck made the turn, she threw herself into the momentum and slammed the wound against the wall, opening it completely. She hissed, not entirely faking her dizziness as her body slumped.

"She's bleeding again," Adam said.

Everett rolled his eyes. "Well, you can sit there staring at her or you can tighten her bandages."

Adam gave her a warning look so she hammed up the agony a bit, face pinching in an expression she hoped wasn't too stagey. He leaned closer and she slouched lower, putting his body between her and the other men.

When his hands touched her wrappings, she lunged and sank her teeth into the side of his neck.

It was harder than she thought it would be to breach the skin, but she did it. The muscles pulled taut between her teeth and then her mouth filled with blood.

He screamed. His gun dropped onto her stomach, but she didn't grab it. Not yet. Everett and the others shouted, lurching forward to intervene. Ignoring the heat in her shoulder, she released Adam's throat, hoisted her feet under his squirming frame and kicked him into the men.

The truck bounced over the rocky side road, moving slower than it had on the highway. She wriggled, dumping the gun to the floor, then twisted to grab it with her bound fingers. Everett and the two Saviors were already recovering, shoving Adam unceremoniously off of them. Heart pounding, she scrambled over the tailgate.

The road received her unforgivingly. The breath coughed out of her. Rocks cut her arm and ribs. By some stroke of luck, she held onto the gun.

The truck stopped.

_Fucking move._

It took a moment of desperate inchworming before she rolled into the safety of the overgrown ditch. Gunshots sounded a second later.

_On your feet. On your fucking feet._

Using the slope of the ditch for leverage, she wobbled to her feet and took off running. Bullets seared the air around her. Crashing footsteps gave chase through the woods as she stumbled back the way they'd come. Her whole body was one big agony but she pushed herself faster, faster, until the voices began to fade behind her.

The walker came out of nowhere. She tried to swerve, but it collapsed into her left flank and sent them both to the ground.

Its weight crushed her. It wasn't enormous, but it was tall; its neck mashed against her face as it clawed at the ground, trying to squirm into a biting position.

Just beyond the arch of its shoulder blade, Mason spotted more of the dead staggering in their direction.

For the second time, her mind flashed on the bus in Georgia, and one of many discussions on how to get past the walkers surrounding them.

_Walker blood? Really?_

_Yeah, my group's done it before. Cover yourself in guts and they can't smell you._

Walker blood. Right. Except her hands weren't free to cut it open, and the others were closing in.

But she supposed she didn't necessarily need hands.

With such loud revulsion it felt as though she shouted it, she thought, _Fuck_, before turning her head and sinking her teeth in the walker's throat.

This skin gave much more easily. The spill of blood that followed was thick and slimy and tasted of rot. Bile rose in her throat. She let go once the wound was gushing, and shimmied her body up so that the spew could cover as much of her as possible. It was a move that risked biting radius, but her legs continued to kick as she moved, bouncing the body just far enough out of range and showering her with swampy blood.

She stood, heaving and half-wild as the walkers converged. They sniffed curiously and passed her without a second glance. She allowed only a moment of relief before launching back into action. Before anything else, she had to get out of this fucking zip tie.

She cast about for something sharp, something sturdy, but saw nothing. Her eyes landed on her sacrificial walker. Its attempts to right itself had slowed somewhat, as had the blood from its neck.

Spitting roughly, she brought her boot down on its back leg until the bone snapped. She glanced behind her, heart fluttering as she scanned for any sign of the Saviors. Nothing yet, but they had to be closing in. Probably moving quieter now they thought they'd lost her.

It was a bitch maneuvering the bone through the plastic loop where her wrists met. But finally, after straining and thrashing, the broken end severed the zip tie and she fell free.

Wasting no time, she scooped up her gun and ducked behind a tree. She checked the magazine while she waited. Twelve rounds. Plenty, if allowed the chance to actually use it.

Only a few minutes passed before she caught the crackle of leaves underfoot. They hesitated as they neared the walker and she readied herself.

A Savior stepped into view, so close to her hiding spot she could smell his sweat. Dirty blond hair, sharp, rat-like features. Rode in the truck bed with her, but beyond that, not one she recognized.

He turned, opening his mouth to call to someone.

She yanked him toward her and pressed the gun to his crotch.

"You wanna be castrated by a gun?" she whispered in his ear. He shivered, lips thin with fear and rage. "Don't speak. Just move your head. They see you over here?"

He shook his head.

"Good. Now call out to Everett. Don't say anything else. Just his name."

He wet his lips, hesitated. She ground the muzzle of the gun more painfully against him.

"Call out to him, and you get to keep everything intact."

"Everett!" he hollered.

An answering call came from somewhere deeper in the woods.

"Good. Now say, 'I've got the bitch. She's over here.'"

"I've got the bitch. She's over here."

"Good job."

Footsteps hurried toward them. She waited until they were nearly upon her, then raised the gun to the blond man's head. His eyes flashed wide, but she shot him before he could utter a word.

"Didn't say anything about letting you keep your life," she murmured.

"Reid!" Everett rushed into view on her other side. "The fuck was—"

She whirled, pausing only to take aim.

His scream echoed through the woods as she took out both his kneecaps.

More shouts sounded from the trees. Mason ripped her fire iron from Everett's back and struck him over the head with it.

"Reid!"

"It came from this way, man."

Figures, moving closer. On her right, the walkers turned back, alerted by the noise. She glided in among them, humming to keep them ensconced around her.

The Saviors didn't pay attention to them at first, distracted by Everett's prone form and Reid's body, which the grounded walker had begun feasting on.

One of them knelt by Everett. "He's still breathing."

"Girl can't be far. Spread out. Dante, take care of those, we don't need to be fending them off, too."

A stocky, balding man approached her flock, knife drawn to dispatch them. She was so covered in dead blood he didn't pick her out of the crowd.

Mason thrust her iron out, one quick jab through his leg.

He fell with a cry and the dead fell with him, tearing at his flesh.

"Shit—Dante, what the hell?"

The Saviors turned. She saw the exact moment they realized her gore-stained silhouette didn't belong with the feasting dead. Pitiless satisfaction brimmed in her, drowning everything else.

She shot the closest right between the eyes before the other two returned fire. She dove back to the cover of her tree, reaching for the lowest branch to pull herself up. It was easier now, even with the wound in her shoulder, to scale the branches. She'd have to write Jesus a thank you letter or something.

Bark exploded in little puffs below her, then stopped. She halted where she was, muscles trembling with the effort of staying still. The Saviors hadn't realized where she'd gone yet. She watched them creep closer, one on either side of the trunk, and gingerly readied her gun.

"Where… Did we get her?"

"Do you see a fucking body?"

Mason took the first shot, dropping the man on her left. The last Savior jumped back, cursing. His eyes barely grazed her before she took him out, too.

A few moments passed. She listened to the silence of the forest, broken only by the squelch of shearing flesh as the walkers continued their meal. No one else appeared. She could not account for Adam, who was probably back at the truck. By now, she hoped he'd bled out. But the others were dead. Somehow, she'd killed them all.

Exhaustion swept over her in a brutal wave. She could feel each pain in her body quite distinctly now, little violent storm systems billowing under her skin. She slithered to the ground, wincing with each bump and scrape.

Everett remained splayed on the ground; the walkers hadn't gotten to him yet. Foggy-brained and quivery-kneed, she removed his shirt and cut it into strips. She tied them around his wrists, his ankles, his bleeding knees, and as an afterthought, his mouth and eyes. He groaned while she worked but didn't wake.

Once he was properly bound, she scooped her hands under his arms and began the long, arduous trek back home.

~m~

A patrol met her halfway back—Ezekiel, Jerry, Dave, Kelsey and Renee. The sight of them brought unexpected tears to her eyes.

"Lady Mason!" Ezekiel cried.

Mason dropped Everett and tried to relax. She had backup now. She was okay.

"Holy shit, you wrestle a lawnmower or something?" Renee asked, inspecting her with wide eyes.

"Saviors. Six of them, plus Everett," she mumbled, flinching as Renee's fingers brushed over her wounded shoulder.

"Where are they now?" Dave raised his gun, scanning the trees like they might be right behind her.

"Hell, if there's any justice." Everyone stared, so she elaborated. "I killed them."

"_All _of them? By yourself?"

She swayed, unable to answer.

"Oh, sweetheart," Kelsey said and swept her into a gentle hug. Mason just stood there numbly, wishing she could move her arms.

"We found Monty," Ezekiel said. Sorrow made his voice raw.

Mason stiffened, even as the grief made her feel weak as a wilting flower. She pulled away from Kelsey.

"Does…does Dray know?" She could barely move her lips.

"Not yet," Dave replied, so softly it brought those tears back.

She closed her eyes. Refused to picture Monty's body, or worse, moments before he'd been shot. He'd been trying to help her. He'd been trying to help her…

Renee and Dave walked on either side of Mason, supporting her when she needed it. Ezekiel dragged Everett behind him, going to absolutely no lengths to be gentle about it. Jerry and Kelsey kept watch at the rear, but they encountered no one until they reached the gate.

The Misfits waited on the other side, plus most of the community. Everyone gathered close, shouting questions, but Mason saw no one else but Dray. The hope and concern in his eyes as they met hers, which faded as he took in her expression, Monty's absence.

He blinked. Shook his head. "Where…"

Mason tried to swallow and couldn't. Dray wavered, or her vision did, or the world did.

He shook his head again, more firmly this time. "No. No."

The Misfits watched uneasily. Mason reached for him, but he stepped past her.

"No. I need to see him. Where is he?"

"Dray."

She grabbed his arm. He spun, all traces of his usual serenity gone.

"Where is he, Mason?"

"Dray, he's…he's gone. I'm sorry. He's gone." Her voice broke on the last word.

His face crumpled, and then his body. Mason caught him, held him up with the last of her waning strength as the sobs rolled through him. The pain in her was worse than any bullet wound.

"Charlie," he finally wept. The sound was a fracture in Mason's heart. "I want Charlie."

"Okay. It's okay," she murmured. "She's right here."

She stepped back to let Charlie take him in her arms, gripping him so fiercely the muscles stood out under her skin.

Mason twitched when someone called her name. She looked up to see Dr. Ellis approaching, brows furrowed in concern.

"Renee said you were in a rough way and she certainly wasn't exaggerating. Let's get you fixed up, alright?"

"I…I need to stay…"

"My Lady." Ezekiel reached out to touch her shoulder, then thought better of it. "Tend to your injuries. You can do no more here, nor would I allow you to try. _Rest_."

Rest. It sounded like a foreign word.

But in one blink she was in the infirmary, and in the next she was in her bathroom, peeling off her blood-soaked clothes. Her shoulder twinged something awful. She'd cleaned her wounds in Dr. Ellis' sink so he could treat them, but the rest of her was a fucking mess. She paused before stepping in the shower, shocked by the specter in the mirror. Trails of dead blood lined her face, but below her mouth, she could still see the curtain of Adam's blood crusted there.

She looked like one of them. She looked like a walker.

Her stomach churned and she gagged, whirling for the toilet.

She kept her eyes shut tight while she retched. Tried not to see it. Tried not to see if there was blood there, too.

The shower felt small and safe. She turned the water up as hot as it would go, wishing to burn everything away. The blood washed down the drain in dark swirls.

~m~

Everett's execution was held within the walls that evening.

Mason assumed immediately that she would be the one to do it, but Ezekiel forbade it.

"No longer" were his exact words. She wondered what that meant, but his tone made her reluctant to argue, and she was too tired to question it, anyway.

Almost everyone gathered for it, hissing curses as Everett was forced to kneel before them. He barely managed it on those injured kneecaps, face flushed with agony, tears leaking from his eyes. Still, he made a point to sneer at the crowd.

Ezekiel said a few words condemning Everett to his fate, and then Dray stepped forward. His expression was haggard, his eyes bloodshot. Mason blinked at the gun in his hands, realizing he must have requested to do this.

He held it up, pointed it at Everett. His hands shook.

"You…" He trailed off, lips quivering. Tears glistened on his cheeks and he staggered back. "Fuck."

Instantly Charlie was there. Gentler than Mason had ever seen her, she took the gun from Dray, murmuring something in his ear. He nodded.

There was no hesitation in Charlie. She turned, flint-eyed and straight-spined, and shot Everett through the head.

They took Dray back to the house, where Tanner and Ashlee waited with Ava. Mason couldn't blame them for opting out this time. They gathered in the living room, lowering Dray to the couch, holding him close. Mason hung back, thinking that this was fast becoming a tradition and she'd really rather it wasn't.

Ava eyed her warily from across the room. Mason tried to smile, failed miserably. She waved instead.

After a pause, Ava waved back. Then, hesitantly, she approached.

She took in all of Mason's bandages, then pointed to the one on her shoulder.

"Did you get hurted?"

"A little bit. But I'm okay."

"Everbody's sad."

"Yeah. We are."

"Why?"

Mason bit her lip, unsure of how much to tell her, or if she would even understand. "Well…Dray just…just lost his dad."

Ava played absently with the buckle of her overalls. "Oh, like I lost Mommy?"

"Y-yes."

Ava nodded. Then she turned and squeezed through the crowd of Misfits until she reached Dray. She wrapped her tiny arms around him, and he jumped a little, so lost in his tears he hadn't noticed her till then.

"Oh. Ava," he rasped, and pulled her close.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Mason swung back into the kitchen and slid to the floor, choking on sobs. In her head, Monty was calling out to her as she walked through his front door, the same way he did with Dray. He was making bread side by side with Elisha, he was making dad jokes for Mason to laugh at and Dray to cringe at.

He was hugging her when she finally confessed she was homeless, telling her everything was going to be alright.

He was hugging her up on the watch post, telling her they would figure it all out.

He was saying she wasn't alone, she wasn't alone, she wasn't alone…

_Get a grip. Dray needs you._

Right. That was right. Her own grief didn't matter right now. He was Dray's father, not hers. Impatiently she wiped the tears from her face, but when it became apparent they weren't stopping any time soon, she made do with simply composing her features.

She returned to the Misfits, taking a seat on the floor where she could find room and resting her head against Dray's leg.

~m~

There were no attacks in the weeks that followed. Mason led a patrol to the road where she'd escaped the Saviors. The truck was gone, but Adam's body lay in the ditch. Someone had stabbed him in the head, but not before he'd turned.

She retraced her steps through the woods, but the bodies that remained had been stripped clean of their weapons, likely by their own men.

Mason tried not to let this get to her. Seven of them were dead now. They'd gotten the chance to execute Everett for his treachery. That had to count for something, no matter how small.

She learned shoulder wounds ached constantly. She also learned that ingesting walker blood had the same effect as food poisoning, though only for a day or two.

Sleep became a nightly fight. Whenever she managed it, her mind flooded with nightmare images that sent her crawling back to consciousness.

It was on one of these nights, after waking in a cold sweat, that she found Dray sitting in the tub, poking something sharp at his arm.

Alarm swept through her, along with a dozen serrated memories, until she saw that the object in his fingers wasn't a razor but a needle, and that the trail it left behind was soft yellow.

A tattoo. Mason let out a gusty sigh.

"Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"You didn't." Dray didn't look up, too focused on whatever he was drawing.

Mason drummed her fingers on her leg. Though she was relieved he was giving himself a tattoo and not…well, not doing what she'd jumped to conclusions about, she wasn't sure if she should leave him alone or not.

"Can, um…can I sit with you?"

"Yes." His voice was dull, robotic.

She sat on the edge of the tub, leaning over to watch the image reveal itself.

She wasn't unfamiliar with the stick and poke process. The little black arrow on her right wrist was a result of it. Lily had given it to her, just as Mason had given one to Dave, and Dave had given one to Lily. All of the Misfits bore matching arrows because they thought giving them to each other would be more meaningful. Plus, they were broke as fuck.

Because the arrows were only a few black lines, none of them had turned out terrible. But whatever Dray was making was much more than that.

"It's a…flower?" she finally guessed.

"Daffodil. They were his favorite."

Her throat tightened. She remembered that. He'd tried to plant some outside the front windows but their dog, Crisco, always dug them up.

"Oh. Right."

She tried to think of something to say, but everything that came to mind felt painful. A long silence passed.

"He was going to be my very first customer," Dray said. By then he had two and a half petals done. "When I finally got around to owning that studio I always talked about. He said he'd pay even though I didn't want him to."

She nodded. "He was so proud of you. You know those times I would make it to your house before you? He'd always catch me up to date on how you were doing in school, or how your latest art project was going. It was a lot of stuff I'd already heard from you, but it was really sweet, so I acted surprised."

Dray smiled briefly. "He did the same with me about you. I bet you didn't know that."

She swallowed. She hadn't known that.

"He was such a good man, Mason. I know you already know that, but…he was so good. There was no one else like him."

He'd paused in his tattooing, so she reached out and took his free hand.

"But _you_ are so much like him," she said. "You are. You were lucky to have him as a dad, and he was lucky to have you as a son."

Dray let out a ragged breath and pressed their entwined hands to his temple. They stayed like that for a while, before he sniffed loudly and let go.

"Once I find that studio, I'll fill this in properly," he said, returning to the flower.

"I'll find one for you," Mason promised.

~m~

"_Rally, my Kingdom_! _Do not let the curs at our backs_!"

Ezekiel's cry sounded over scattered gunshots as Mason slammed hard onto the scorching pavement, straining to hold her attacker at bay with her shield. It took both hands; he was much heavier than her. The sun beat down brightly, blinding.

Hands groped at her neck. She tried to free her legs to knee him in the groin but his staggering weight crushed her.

A shadow fell over them, grabbing the man by his hair and running a knife through his skull.

"Charlie," Mason gasped, rolling the body to the side.

"Fucking cavalry's arrived," Charlie said, pulling her up.

Mason watched as a group of fresh Kingdom fighters charged through the mayhem, mowing down the remaining Saviors. There was no sense of victory in the silence after, though they'd won this skirmish. Bodies lay scattered on the road, and not all of them were Saviors.

Renee rushed among them all, looking for survivors. "We've got four down, we need to get three of them home, now!" she called. "Ash, check the van for any medical supplies."

Everyone pitched in carrying the survivors to the truck, loading them carefully in the cargo bed. Sam, Lily, Dave and Ezekiel tended to their wounds as best they could while Renee worked to save her own patient.

Mason frowned, seeing it was Opal, a kind, timid woman who had blossomed during combat training. Renee pressed a pile of gauze to the hideous wound in her stomach.

"It's not stopping," she muttered. "_Fuck_."

"Do you need something else to wrap it?" Mason asked, touching the hem of her shirt.

"It's not—she needs to be operated on. I can't do that here, and she won't make the trip."

Frustration and despair laced her words, but she kept her hands on Opal's stomach for several more heartbeats, as though waiting for a miracle. Then she leaned back, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and pulled her knife from its sheath.

"I can't do anything else for her, she's already…she's already pretty much gone." Something strained beneath the surface of her voice, cracking it.

Before Mason could ask what she might do to help, Renee stabbed Opal through the head. She sat there a moment before getting rigidly to her feet.

Mason laid a hand on her shoulder but Renee shrugged away. "I need to get back and treat the others."

She climbed into the back and the truck sped off, leaving half the group behind to gather their hard-won supplies. They loaded everything useful into the Saviors' van. Though she knew Ashlee had already looked and come up empty-handed, Mason scoured again for medical supplies.

Nothing. Fuck.

Tanner leaned in. "Hey, Princess, that's about everything. Just…you know, need to get Opal in here."

She tried not to flinch.

"We got a pretty decent gun haul, huh?"

She nodded. They did desperately need more ammo, but that wasn't all they needed.

Once she was sure everyone was accounted for, she gave the go-ahead to return home. Some of the Saviors stirred as the van passed, their eyes milky with death. She would come back for them later.

~m~

"We're low on just about everything we really need," Ellis whispered. "Needles, gauze, saline, antibiotics. These people are hanging on, but just by a thread. If we don't get these things, that thread snaps, no question. There'd be no way in hell we could treat anymore incoming wounded."

Mason exchanged a glance with Ezekiel and Jerry. They stood with Ellis in a corner of the infirmary, as far away from the patients as the room would allow. Six took up hospital beds, three from today's fight, three from an attack several days prior.

In the last month, they'd taken out all five of the Saviors' outposts, burning each one beyond livability, including the mountain house. It had been surprisingly simple, but the Saviors had been out for revenge ever since. They'd struck nine times in just shy of two weeks. Eliminating the outposts was an incredible accomplishment, but if this routine kept up, they'd run out of supplies before they could make their next move.

Her gaze lingered anxiously on one of the beds, where Rita lay. Shot in the leg in the previous attack, she'd been stabilized, but the wound had become infected. Lily sat next to her now, holding her hand.

Resolve surged through her. No one else would die. She wouldn't allow it.

"Make me a list," she told Ellis. "Everything you need. I'll go out now, I'll find it."

"Not by yourself," Jerry said.

"You need as many people here as possible. I'll be fine. Gladiator, remember?" She touched the hubcap perched on her back. She hadn't quite perfected it as a shield, but it was coming along.

"No, Jerry is correct," Ezekiel said. "I would not allow you to embark anywhere on your own, not with such wolves harrying us. Regardless, our usual hunting range has dimmed in possibilities. I fear we have mined all curative resources within our reach."

"What about the Hilltop?" Jerry said.

The three of them glanced at her, like she might already know if that was the answer.

"I don't know what their medical situation is like," she said. "But it's worth a shot. Jesus will do what he can to help anyway."

Ezekiel still looked worried, but as he took in the room, he sighed. "That is likely the greatest chance we have. Very well. I will ask you both go as my emissaries, but I _order _you be accompanied by at least two others."

"But—"

"That is my final word, Mason. Elsewise, you will remain here."

Stifling the urge to argue, she dipped her head. "Yes, your Majesty."

~m~

"We really don't have much in the way of ammo," Jesus said, leading them up the dirt drive to the Hilltop. "But we have medical supplies to spare."

The walls around the Hilltop were impressive, but the inside was less grand than Mason expected. Aside from the huge brick building at the center, only a handful of trailers and outbuildings suggested much of a group lived there.

She frowned. "How many people do you have here?"

"About forty," Jesus answered. "We have plans to expand the walls so that we can put in crops. At least when we get enough seed to do so."

Mason glanced at Jerry, who nodded discreetly. Behind them, Scott and Charlie carried their guns at casual angles, though their gazes were vigilant.

Jesus led them into the brick building, which opened into a wide foyer with a curved staircase and rich finishings. Here was where all the grandness was.

He turned to them when they reached the staircase. "Gregory's study is upstairs, but he'll only do this one-on-one."

She motioned to Jerry, but he shook his head. "Nah, man, I think this should probably be you."

"Why?"

He smiled cheerfully and replied, "Oh, because it's harder to say no to someone who looks like the walking embodiment of a mercy stroke."

The others chuckled. She snorted and started up the stairs, Jesus at her side.

"Now, Mason, before you head in there, just know he's… He can be a little much sometimes."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that when you get the urge to punch him, try to practice some of that restraint I've been talking about." Eyes twinkling, he added, "Not that he wouldn't deserve it if you broke his nose."

She frowned.

He indicated a door at the end of a short hall. "I'll be right outside if you need me."

She nodded and pushed inside.

A man in a pale gray suit waited, spreading his arms welcomingly.

"Well, if it isn't Jesus' little playmate." His eyes widened slightly taking her in. "I'm sorry, my dear, you'll have to refresh me on your name."

She was trying hard not to make any rash judgments, but she wasn't sure she liked this guy.

"Mason."

"Ah, yes. Gregory."

"Yeah, I know."

He took a seat at a desk, so she sat in the chair across from him. This room's grandness matched the grandness of the foyer, mahogany shelves overflowing with hardcovers, rich wood paneling. Among such well-kept adornment, she felt small and grimy and uncivilized.

Gregory smiled like he could sense this. "Like what you see? This has to be one of the last places on Earth that offers any…refinery. Everything outside these walls succumbs to the ugliness of survival, but in here it's like being back in the old world."

She forced a polite smile.

"Jesus tells me you're a housekeeper," he continued.

"I was. Back in the old world."

If he heard the edge in her tone, he ignored it. "Sure would be nice to have someone like that around again. I tell you, it is truly difficult finding decent help around here."

"Forty people seems like plenty of help to me."

"Yes, but none of them are housekeepers. They don't really know how to get down to that nitty gritty. Keep it clean how I like." His eyes glittered. "You don't strike me as someone who shies away from the nitty gritty. In fact, you look like a woman who can get things just as clean as a nitpick like me requires."

Okay, she was positive she didn't like this guy.

Her spine prickled, but she remembered Jesus' advice and tamped down her disgust.

"Yeah, I don't shy away from it. So if we could just get down to why I'm here—"

"Where is it you come from again? Your community, I mean."

Mason hesitated, then said, "The Kingdom."

"The _Kingdom_. Sounds like quite a grandiose place. I'd love a tour sometime. Of course, I'd have to request that you be the one to give it to me." He winked.

She stared flatly. "Yeah, so, the reason I'm here—"

"Oh, yes, yes, I know why you're here, but there's plenty of time to discuss business. I like to get to know people before I start asking them for things." He shook his head, as though scolding a disobedient child. "That's just common courtesy, wouldn't you say?"

She clenched her fists under the table. "Maybe, but this business is actually kind of time sensitive. We have wounded people back home. We need medical supplies."

"Are you telling me you have none?"

His tone put her on guard and she realized she'd just revealed a little too much. He didn't need to know how desperate they were.

"We do, but once our people are healed, we'll likely be pretty low, you know. We like to plan ahead."

Gregory smiled wider, and Mason cursed inwardly. She found random-ass combat coaches in the woods. Why couldn't she stumble on someone who could fucking teach her how to lie?

"And what, uh, would your people be willing to put down for these medical supplies?"

"Seed. Jesus tells me you're planning to expand but you don't have enough. We could help with that."

He leaned back thoughtfully. "Jesus tells _me_ your people are at war with the Saviors."

"We are."

"See, that puts me in a bit of an awkward position. We don't wish to jeopardize the agreement we've come to with Negan."

"What agreement? The one where you surrender to his demands and he takes half your shit every month? You wouldn't catch me making that deal."

"Well, it seems to me there's things you don't understand about the world. Sometimes you have to do things you wouldn't believe."

She bridled at the condescension, but she reined it in. She had to get these supplies. Her people were counting on her.

"Maybe that's why you should make a deal with us," she said. "So you can stop doing those things. We've already taken out all their outposts. You'll have us to thank once the Sanctuary's gone."

His eyes flashed. "Confidence! I like that. It's your kind of spirit that…_rouses _something in me. You know, I do want to help you. But I'm wondering if maybe there's something else you could give me."

He sauntered around to sit on her side of the desk. She had to scoot back to make room for him.

"I wasn't kidding about wanting help around here. Someone to…assist me, if you will."

Every nerve in her vibrated with revulsion. "I thought Jesus was your right-hand man."

"Oh, he is, but…some things just require a woman's touch." He ran a hand down her arm and she went rigid. "Now, my preference would be you, of course, but I'm willing to negotiate. For example, the one you came in with. Maybe you can tell I like them a little on the exotic side—"

Lightning-fast, Mason shot out of her chair, grabbing his arm and spinning him around in a move Jesus taught her. She slammed him down on the table, wrenching his arm behind his back until he cried out.

She leaned down and spoke in his ear, "Alright, it's my turn to talk." Behind her, the door swung open but she didn't let go. "Seems to me there's things _you _don't understand. Like how you never bait a woman who could easily break your arm and definitely wants to. Or how you never make enemies with a group who has the weaponry and experience to wipe yours out when they're trying to make friends."

"Let go of my arm!"

"Oh, I will once you've made an effort to actually listen to me. Now, we have seed that we can trade—corn, beans, sorghum. Sorghum is this really cool grain, kind of underrated in my opinion, that—"

"I know what sorghum is!" he spat.

"Oh, good. We also have seed for garden crops—tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers. We cleaned out all the supply stores in the area, which is probably why you can't find any. So unless you plan on venturing out farther, we're your safest bet. It would mean more food for your people, plus a nice little surprise for your friends the Saviors. I know how much you wanna stay on their good side."

In her peripheral, Jesus appeared, arms extended to restrain her if necessary. But she was in control. In fact, she'd never felt so fucking in control. For the first time, she felt powerful.

She shook his arm a bit and he grunted. "I won't be _assisting _you. Neither will my friend. Neither will any woman from my Kingdom, do you understand? It's seed or nothing. Have I made it clear where each of us stands?"

He huffed, spittle flying. "Yes."

"Alright." Roughly, she released him. "Do you have an answer for me, or should I give you a minute?"

He turned, rubbing at his arm. There was hate in his eyes, but fear, too. "You have a deal."

Relief flooded her, but she tried not to let it show. "Coolioz."

Jesus threw her a warning glare and ushered her out of the room, but when she reached the threshold, she turned back.

"Oh, yeah. I ever hear you call a woman _exotic _again, I'll take your left nut."

Once the door closed, Jesus hissed, "I told you to be restrained."

"You told me not to punch him. I didn't hear anything about threatening to break his arm. Besides, I _was _restrained until he started touching me like some horndog at a strip club. Honestly, dude, that guy…"

He sighed. "I know. I'm sorry, I should've given you more of a heads-up. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, and was surprised to find that she meant it.

"Well, c'mon, let's get to the infirmary before he changes his mind."

No one gave them any trouble, and the truck was soon loaded with supplies. Mason paused before climbing into the back.

"Hey." She nudged Jesus. "Thank you. Really."

"It's no problem, Mason. Well, actually, I'll never hear the end of it from Gregory, so it's a _bit _of a problem."

"Oh, god…I'm so sorry."

"The things I do for you, sweetheart." He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Go on, get back to your people."

~m~

The relief was palpable in the infirmary. Rita was awake, gruffly telling Lily not to worry, not to cry, she was perfectly fine. Ellis offered encouraging smiles to those conscious. Renee did, too, but it never lingered; once she wasn't face-to-face with anyone, her expression clouded. Still dwelling on Opal.

Ezekiel immediately prepared the seed to send to the Hilltop. Mason expected him to disapprove of how she'd reached the arrangement, since she could've risked it entirely. But all the disapproval seemed aimed at Gregory.

"My Lady, I would never expect you to endure any unwelcome advances, no matter the stakes. Indeed, I am quite proud of how you handled such an unsavory situation."

He told her she didn't need to go back if she didn't want to, but she insisted. They'd already gotten what they wanted, but she wanted to make sure Gregory wasn't going to pull anything stupid anyway.

She stayed in the truck bed this time while Jerry took the lead. Gregory didn't come out of his study at any point, so Jesus and Edna, an older lady who worked in the infirmary, handled things.

On the drive back, Mason leaned her head over the side of the bed and watched the world roll by. She couldn't help feeling a flicker of hope, soft as a fluttering leaf but persistent in her chest. Everything felt slightly more beautiful, more open. Golden sunlight and long shadows dappled the road.

As did a trail of bloody footprints cutting horizontally across the pavement.

She sat up, about to alert Jerry, but the truck was already slowing. She hopped out, trailed by Charlie and Scott.

"These are really fresh," Jerry said.

"They're headed that way." Scott pointed northwest, into the trees.

They all looked at each other, silently questioning if they wanted to risk it. Finally, Mason said, "C'mon. We have to know where they're going."

She and Jerry took the lead. None of them were trackers, but the trail was ridiculously easy to follow, which made her think there had to be a lot of them. Excitement buzzed in her chest. Whatever was drawing these walkers, this _had _to be where they'd all been going lately.

They passed an old water tower a few yards off the highway. Vines climbed the columns, so she assumed it had been defunct for a while. The trail veered beyond it.

A sound registered, though she couldn't tell what at first. A waterfall? Some kind of droning machinery maybe?

Then Jerry grabbed her shoulder, halting her, and she realized they'd caught up to the walkers right as the sound became identifiable.

Her companions' eyes stretched wide; clearly they heard it, too. Up ahead, a group of about thirty walkers stumbled toward the sound, out beyond the forest's edge.

Before promptly falling, one by one, over the horizon.

She blinked. It was a ledge. Jerry nudged her and motioned toward it questioningly. She nodded and they all drew their weapons before prowling forward.

The sound grew dizzyingly loud. Mason's pulse stuttered as they finally reached the ledge.

It was a quarry, the waterless sister to the one near the Kingdom that Sam had mentioned. Waterless, but not barren, because about a hundred feet below, the dead dominated the space. Fear spiked through her, in a way the walkers had not been able to inspire in a long time.

She'd never seen so many in one place. Hundreds, possibly even a thousand. The smell was monstrous, but the sound… The sound raised the hairs on the back of her neck, a consuming, primal response.

"Holy shit." Charlie whispered this, but Mason still jumped. "How the fuck…why the fuck are they all here?"

"Look," Jerry pointed. "Those trucks."

Winding down into the quarry along the opposite cliff face was a narrow road. Halfway up, two tractor trailers perched, cabs angled in as a makeshift wall to keep the walkers from climbing out.

"It's gonna go soon," he added. "Look at the way the ass-end of that trailer is angled."

He was right. The truck closest to the edge leaned precariously, its rear tires sitting on what looked like little more than a prayer. Mason traced the path up to ground level, which led to a dirt road. She pointed.

"Where does that lead? The highway?"

"Yeah, but from there it heads east," Jerry said. "Decomps pretty much move in a straight line unless something distracts them, so I don't think they'll come in our direction." But he frowned, obviously unconvinced.

She couldn't blame him. With a herd this unthinkable, it was hard to place confidence in probably's.

"We can't just let them migrate on their own," Scott said. "Anything could send them in our direction."

"Well, where the hell are we gonna take them?" Charlie demanded.

Mason sucked in a sharp breath.

These were her walkers. These were what she'd been hunting for all these months, to use against the Saviors. Now here they were, all conveniently in one place, as though they'd been waiting for her.

She whirled to Jerry. "We didn't know how to get them to waste all their ammo, remember?" The words tripped over themselves in her excitement.

Despite her poor articulation, Jerry understood immediately. He put his hands to either side of his head, eyes going wide. "Oh, shit, dude…"

She motioned to the quarry herd, nearly hopping up and down.

"This is it! This is how we do it."

~m~

Sunlight beat down on Mason's shoulders. She flapped the hem of her shirt in an attempt to cool herself and leaned against the bowl of the water tower. She'd been roosting on its balcony since dawn, keeping watch.

A week had passed since discovering the quarry herd, a week of planning and reconnaissance and finding ways to stave off the boredom up on this tower. Tomorrow, they'd bust the herd out of their earthen enclosure, but until then, they were acting with round-the-clock vigilance. The water tower was just a precaution, providing a vantage point in case the quarry busted itself open.

With quarry day looming, her thoughts kept jumping back to the discord among the Kingdom. A good portion of them were reluctant to execute something so dicey. Some of their points were valid. They didn't have enough ammo to launch an effective attack on the Sanctuary, even in the midst of a herd invasion. They risked annihilation themselves if they tried that. A compromise was reached—they'd let the walkers wreak their havoc, then return in a finishing blow.

Ezekiel was magnificent through all of it. He was present in every stage of the planning. He gave speeches that assuaged concerns and uplifted spirits. Mason found herself believing them this time.

They were going to win this. No matter what it took, they were going to win.

Absently, she reached up and traced the letters she'd carved into the bowl a few days ago. _Wait. _Just like the painting of that water tower in the Oasis. Just like one of her favorite songs…

A sound reached her. She sat up straight, ears straining. A soft breeze rustled through the treetops, stirring her hair.

It smelled like death.

She scrambled to her feet. Over the thunder of her heart, the sound became clearer and clearer. The groans and snarls of countless walkers.

"Fuck." She snatched the walkie off her belt. "Jerry, you copy?"

"Here, boss."

"It's happening, but I can't tell how far along they are. Send everyone out. I'm gonna see if I can get ahead of it."

"On our way. Be real careful, dude."

"Always am."

She shimmied to the ground and took off running. She wasn't too far from the bend in the highway, but it still took a few minutes before she was close enough to spot it.

Her heart sank. The herd was already there. Luckily, they all seemed content to march east, paying no mind to the road that led to the Kingdom. That wouldn't be the case, however, if she gave them something to focus on.

She darted into the woods, taking great pains to go unnoticed until she could snatch a straggler from the edge of the herd. Half-dragging it as she followed the group parallel, she painted herself in record time, then started running again.

As she did, she radioed Dave.

"Hey, you on the road?"

"We are. Are you okay? You sound—"

"I'm fine, I'm fine, but look, the herd's already passed the turnoff. You and Lily are gonna have to take that alternate route up to Redding. I don't think they've gotten too far ahead of me but I'm trying to get the lead right now. Everyone else needs to make it to the fork. If—"

Her footsteps stalled. The breath pulled tight in her throat. She couldn't have reached the front of the herd yet, could she?

No, it wasn't the front. Something was pulling the walkers off the road. She followed them as they flooded into the trees on the north side, near a turnoff marked by an old sign.

"You're almost home!" it read. "Alexandria. Next right."

Something unraveled inside her at the sight of it. An old fear, half-forgotten, dusty.

_(you're almost home)_

"Mason!"

Dave's voice shook her back to the present. "I'm here. Dave, something's pulling them north. I think it's that…"

In her head, Sam was telling her about the quarries. About how one had been hollowed out to build a new community to the north. Unfinished and uninhabited, last they'd checked. But that had been a while ago. They'd been too distracted protecting their home front to give it a second thought.

"It's that place Sam told us about. Alexandria."

"I thought no one was living there."

As he spoke, a new sound rent the air, one that filled her veins with ice.

The screams of many terrified people.

"I can hear them," she rasped. "We—we have to lead them away. How close are you?"

"We're coming down Redding now."

She didn't stay to wait for them. She followed the river of dead through the trees until a huge metal wall crested into sight. Part of it had collapsed under an enormous tree, felled by lightning if the scorch marks along one sign were any indicator, and the walkers were flooding in.

Too many. Too many to draw away.

"Fuck," she hissed, and started jabbing her iron through walker after walker before wondering just what in hell she thought that would accomplish.

"Mason!"

Ezekiel appeared, followed by Jerry, Sam, Paula and James. They positioned themselves around her, taking down what walkers they could, but Ezekiel and Jerry met her gaze through the chaos and she saw their thoughts were the same.

It wasn't going to make a difference. They had no hope of drawing out the walkers that had already breached the wall; prey held their attention now. All they could do was try to alter the course of the rest of the herd.

From the highway, music started playing. Her music, blasting through the speakers of a truck. Dave and Lily had arrived.

"We must away, my Kingdom!" Ezekiel cried. "Lure as many as you can back with us!"

Guilt cracked a line through her chest. Somehow, this wasn't the same as all those times she'd avoided people on the road. But she comforted herself by thinking maybe these people were bad, bad like Coyote's cult, bad like the Saviors. Maybe they deserved it. Besides, she had her own people to worry about, her own mission. She turned away.

The six of them spread out, singing loudly to hook as many walkers as they could. They were more successful the farther they retreated from the community—Mason couldn't bear to think its name.

_(you're almost)_

It was easier if it didn't have a name.

Her spirits lifted a little when they reached the highway. The tactic had worked; the remaining half of the herd shadowed Dave and Lily. Ezekiel and the others dispersed among the dead, spacing themselves out to keep things from getting sloppy again. As she sang, Mason's section of walkers contracted her around her like a clenching fist. Occasionally, through the din, she heard others singing to their dead.

The journey took a lifetime. Heat intensified the herd's stench to something borderline evil. Sweat drenched her, and she worried it might wash away her dead paint. Her muscles ached with stress.

But then the turnoff came, marking three-fourths of their journey over, and her heart began to flutter in anticipation. The sun would be sinking by the time they made it to the Sanctuary. Not exactly how they'd planned it, but not bad, all things considered.

By the time she spotted the fence, a good portion of walkers already surrounded it, bowing it precariously. Shots showered into their ranks a second later. Mason touched her gun.

Once she was close enough to spot the gunmen on the watch towers, she took aim and fired.

She stuck around just long enough to catch one in the throat before calling it good. Then she darted out of the herd and into the woods.

It didn't take long to find the dirt road, the same the Saviors had tried to take her down. Dave, Lily, Tanner and Ashlee waited in the truck. Parked behind them was the school bus, which they'd gotten running solely for this.

"What's the head count?" she asked.

"Bea, Patricia, Stoney, Vick, and Jeremy," Dave answered.

"Good, good." Everyone that should've been there was. Now they just had to wait for the rest.

The wait was excruciating. But one by one, everyone made it back to them. Sam, Charlie, Dray, Renee, Paula, James, Richard…

Finally, Ezekiel and Jerry appeared, signaling for them to start the vehicles. Mason hopped into the back of the truck with the rest of her Misfits and something in her blood rose like birds in flight as they sped away.

"We did it," she murmured to herself. Then louder, so her Misfits could hear, "We fucking did it."

They grinned, and she grinned back until her face hurt, and the grin turned into a scream of pure triumph.

"_We fucking did it_!"

The Misfits howled with her, and her lungs started to ache but she couldn't stop. All the pain, all the fear and uncertainty, all the fucking grief, spilled violently out of her.

She was powerful. They were powerful. They could do anything.

~m~

The celebration that night was like nothing she'd ever experienced. Everything was a fever of drinking and feasting and dancing, so much laughter and jubilance Mason felt tipsy.

Ava and the other children were paraded around on peoples' shoulders until their bedtime. Dray and Dave played their guitars and Mason sang only happy songs and everyone danced to her voice. When her throat felt too raw to continue, they played her iPod through speakers like the night would never end.

She got drunk for the first time in three years. She danced with almost everyone. The happiness on her family's faces filled her with such radiance she thought she'd combust.

Eventually, things blurred. She was dancing with Dray. She was telling jokes to Ezekiel and Richard. She was passing a joint to Renee. She was running through the dark with Ashlee and Lily, giggling witlessly. She was puking in the bushes while Charlie held her hair back and laughed at her.

Even through the burgeoning hangover, happiness followed her into sleep. She was on a beach, and her family was there, and strangers she knew by instinct and not name were there, and there were purple and yellow flowers everywhere, there was joy and love and the distinct sense that she had finally come home.

Everyone grumbled the next day, but no one seemed to regret the night. The Misfits passed around water and aspirin and junk food; Mason shared an entire jar of pickles with Ava, who kept asking why she had a tummy ache.

Kelsey and Scott checked in around noon, scolding them teasingly before telling them Ezekiel had called a meeting. Reluctantly, they emerged from the soothing dimness of their house. Mason dropped Ava off at Harriet's before joining everyone in the courtyard.

Ezekiel joked a bit that he hoped no one felt too miserable after their nocturnal revelries. Mason laughed behind very dark sunglasses. He grew serious informing them that they would return to the Sanctuary in a week to check on the aftermath, but then he brightened again.

"You mighty warriors who participated in yesterday's harrowing crusade brandished a courage worthy of the most stalwart knights," he said. "That is why, early this eve, I shall be holding a knighting ceremony for each of you."

Mason couldn't help a bubble of excitement. Not long ago, she'd thought some of Ezekiel's theatrics silly. Now she was going to be knighted. And it still felt a little silly, but more the way last night had felt silly. A celebration, an acknowledgment of something good.

Late afternoon met them with an immaculate sky, casting the Kingdom in gold. Everyone who was to be knighted stood before Ezekiel in the courtyard. One by one, they knelt at his feet as he recited their vows: "Do you pledge, by your heart, by your blood, by your life, to protect and defend this Kingdom, to the very end of your days?"

"I do," they said.

To which he laid his sword on their shoulder and said, "I declare you now a Knight of this Kingdom."

Mason swelled with pride as each of her Misfits were knighted. When it was her turn, she held Ezekiel's gaze through the entire vow.

Finally, he stepped back. "Before we call an end to this day, there are two more ceremonies I wish to perform. Jerry, if you would step forward."

Smiling eagerly, Jerry stood before him. Ezekiel laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Jerry, long have you have stood by your King, no matter the hardship, no matter long nights, no matter hostiles and calamities. I cherish your unwavering loyalty, your immense courage, and the light that shines from you, even in darkest times. I wish you to be my Steward, first ambassador to my name, to act in my place should any ill befall me and oversee this Kingdom with a ruler's devotion, from now until the end of my reign. Will you assume this post?"

"I will, your Majesty," he said. "There really is no one else I'd rather serve, and no other group I'd rather be a part of." Then he placed his fist over his heart and bowed low. Mason realized he must have picked that up from the Misfits…

"Good. Now. Mason?"

She jolted, staring in confusion. Jerry grinned—clearly he was in on whatever was going on. Ezekiel beckoned her gently and she went to him, trying not to feel self-conscious.

As with Jerry, Ezekiel laid a hand on her shoulder. His eyes sparkled.

"Lady Mason," he said, "time and again, you have proven yourself an outstanding addition to this Kingdom. I am more than proud to know you, and I cannot imagine moving forward without your dazzling gallantry, your ferocious loyalty, or the wisdom borne from the formidable way in which you love. I wish you to be my Champion, first defender of my name, cardinal paladin of this Kingdom, from now until the end of my reign. Will you assume this post?"

A small breath left her. She hadn't been planning on staying. She'd forgotten, in the rush of everything, in yesterday's triumph, that she never intended on making this home. Hadn't intended on…on _living_ long enough to make it that…

She opened her mouth to say this, but what came out was, "I will, your Majesty."

Delight lit Ezekiel's eyes. Jerry almost started bouncing with excitement.

She placed a fist over her heart and bowed. "By my iron and my blood, whether my shadow fall by sunlight or moonlight…I will."

Ezekiel threw his arms in the air. "May this day's joys live eternally in our memories, and may those memories carve a new future of love, light and freedom!"

Everyone cheered. The Misfits reached Mason first, hugging and shaking her and yelling about her new position. Jerry spun her in a circle until she started laughing. Kelsey and Scott embraced her proudly.

In the middle of this, a group approached her and Ezekiel. Paula, James, Stoney, Vick… All those who had argued against yesterday's scheme.

"Mason. Your Majesty," Paula nodded respectfully at each of them. "We were wrong. We were wrong to side with Everett when he wanted to surrender. We were wrong to doubt your plan with the herd. Please…we're sorry. We never should have doubted either of you. We swear to follow your lead from now on, and…we volunteer to keep an eye on the Sanctuary until we're ready to attack."

Hands over hearts, they bowed. Mason and Ezekiel exchanged a startled glance.

"Dear hearts, there is no need to apologize," he said. "There was valid reason for your dissent, and I do not blame you for it. Let us put this behind us."

There was celebration that night, as well, softer and more hopeful than any she'd ever experienced.

This was the beginning of everything.

~m~

The next week flew by. Weapons assigned, food and medicine inventoried, watch posts reinforced, vehicles refueled and tuned-up. Mason led more intensive combat lessons. Ezekiel wrapped up each day with a rousing speech. Paula's group reported back no movement at the Sanctuary aside from the dead.

Mason met with Jesus the day before the return to the Sanctuary. They spent their time as they usually did, until the end.

"Mason," he said, more solemn than she had ever seen him. "You need to be careful tomorrow. I'm glad you think you have the upper hand here, but even so, Negan's tricky. Don't let confidence cloud things up."

"Well, with any luck, the walkers did our job for us and ate his guts," she replied lightly. "We'll be fine, okay? I'll give you the whole riveting tale in two days' time."

His frown lingered a second longer before dissolving into a smirk. "Guess I shouldn't worry. Negan doesn't know what he's in for with you, Miss 'I'll-Take-Your-Left-Nut'. Why the left, by the way?"

"I don't know, I thought maybe he was right-nutted. You know, how most people are right-handed?"

The conversation melted into giggles. They wished each other well and promised to see each other soon.

When the day of the attack arrived, Mason sat Ava down on the couch.

"Listen. Tonight, a lot of us are going out to do something really important. You're gonna stay here with Harriet and all your friends, and you're gonna watch movies and have a great time. But just in case those mean men show up, I need to know you know what to do. Can you tell me what we do if the mean men show up?"

"Find a grown-up."

"That's right, find a grown-up that you know. Then what?"

"Run for the bus."

"Yes, but don't leave your grown-up's side unless you absolutely have to. Okay?"

"Uh-huh. Macie, why don't you stay?"

"Because, baby girl." It was harder to smile, talking to Ava about this. "I'm Ezekiel's new Champion. That means I have to go out and kick all the butts of all the mean men in the world."

"You be safe, right?"

Mason swallowed. Why was this so difficult? "Of course I'll be safe. And when I get back, I wanna hear all about what movies you watched. I think I heard a rumor going around about _Monsters, Inc._…?"

Ava brightened, and they had lunch together, and Mason tried to dismiss the anxiety in her stomach.

At sundown, Jerry and Mason made last minute rounds, making sure everything and everyone was prepared. Brilliant shades of fire lit the sky, but to the east, storm clouds approached, spiking lightning into the air.

Ezekiel addressed them all from the courtyard.

"My Kingdom, we stand this eve on the threshold of a new age, a glorious overture to a life free of the Saviors' tyranny. We go now into the darkness, but we go resolute. We go hard-bitten by our sufferings. We go _together_, because together, we _endure_, we _persist_, and _we conquer_! We shall triumph this darkness, and in our triumph, herald our resplendent dawn!"

Mason cheered with the rest of them, but the anxiety was in her chest now.

_It's okay, _she told herself, and breathed tightly. _Everything's okay._

They divided into three groups.

Ezekiel's was the largest—twelve in all, including Richard and the Misfits. Mason had insisted on that; the Misfits had proven themselves some of the most capable of her combat students, and she wanted to make sure Ezekiel was well-protected.

Sam, Bea, Scott, Kelsey and Deb joined Jerry's group, which totaled eight.

Mason's group was the smallest, only six, Paula, Stoney, and James among them. But her group eyed her with such determination that she didn't feel nervous about their numbers.

The few staying behind wished them luck. Mason watched the Kingdom fade into the night as they drove away.

They parked on the same dirt road they had last time. They separated into their respective groups. Mason watched as first Ezekiel's, and then Jerry's, disappeared into the dark. Then she nodded to hers and set off in a different direction.

There was no light from any moon or stars. Clouds rumbled overhead, flashing occasionally with half-stifled lightning. At a certain point, they had to turn on their flashlights just to avoid knocking into trees.

The wind picked up, bringing an unseasonable chill. Mason shivered. Her nerves buzzed as though stirred by static electricity.

A twig cracked loudly. She halted and her group pulled in around her. Paula started to say something but Mason hissed at her to be quiet.

"Evening, ladies."

A man stepped out from behind a tree, wielding a machine gun. Mason's hand stilled on its way to her own gun.

"You all are coming with me, nice and easy, now," the man said.

"That's gonna have to be a nope for us," Mason replied as evenly as she could. "Sorry."

The man grinned, like he knew something she didn't. Then he whistled that fucking whistle, and she almost rolled her eyes.

From all sides, Saviors appeared. More than she anticipated. Something worse than doubt spiked through her. How many had survived? They'd surrounded the Sanctuary with what had to have been six hundred walkers. They'd taken out all the guards. The fences had fallen. No one living had gone in or out since, according to Paula's group.

"You're in for a rude awakening, Mason," the man said.

Something struck the back of her head and her vision splintered away.

~m~

When she came to, it was the light she noticed first. It was still clearly nighttime, but there was light radiating from somewhere, illuminating the figures around her.

She was draped over someone's shoulder, her hands and feet bound, at the center of a group of about twenty Saviors. Paula and the others trudged within their ranks, heads bowed in surrender.

Ire stirred in her, but when she opened her mouth to demand she be put down, a groan escaped instead.

"Welcome back, sleepyhead," her bearer said, and she recognized the voice of the man who had ambushed them. "No offense, but I was getting a little sick of carrying you, so it's about damn time."

He dumped her on the ground. She tried to catch herself but failed, and the Saviors laughed.

"You gotta treat her gently, Al," one of them said. "Women like to be treated gently."

Al chuckled. "I'm not sure she is a woman. From what she's shown, she's more of a devil." He leaned closer, pressing his gun to her head. "Now I'm gonna untie you, because you'll have to walk from here on out. Try anything stupid, and we turn your friends' brains into fireworks."

She glared faintly, trying to get a decent grasp on anything resembling composure. Blood hammered her aching skull. Al cut the bindings on her ankles and wrists, but it still took her two tries to get to her feet.

"That's a good girl," Al said. "Now walk. Toward those lights."

Whatever the lights were, they were blinding. She obeyed, screwing up her eyes and fumbling for any sort of plan. The Saviors had taken her weapons as well as her group's and she was too weak to fight hand-to-hand. Their only hope rested on Ezekiel or Jerry's group finding them.

_Stay calm. It's going to be okay. You'll figure it out._

Then the trees yawned into a small hollow, and it was headlights, she realized, right before every other thought skidded out of range like tires on black ice.

A line of people knelt on the ground. Ezekiel, Jerry, Richard, Kelsey, Scott and the Misfits. Each of them bore blood and bruises from what must have been a nasty fight.

Cars and trucks surrounded the clearing, and in between and among them, the Saviors. So many, Mason couldn't count. Rain pattered down as she took all this in. The world tilted at a strange angle.

No. No.

She shook her head. This was one of her nightmares, it wasn't real…

"Fucking goddamn _finally_! I was worried you were gonna stand us up."

Mason twitched as a man detached from the crowd. He wore a leather jacket and a red scarf and a charming, imposing smile. He brandished a baseball bat, wrapped in barbed wire, stained sinister red. He moved like the world belonged to him.

He beckoned her. "C'mon, doll, don't keep us in suspense any longer."

Al pushed her forward until she stood at one end of the line-up. Her family eyed her desperately. For the first time, she saw that they were gagged.

The man loomed over her. Cinnamon and cologne. She stood as still as she could manage, but her insides were screaming.

He looked her over and said, "Jesus, you're a lot smaller than I was expecting. From the way my men gossip, I was expecting you to be a seven-foot fuck monster. Honestly, I'm a little disappointed."

She worked to gather her voice. There was something she needed to say, but her lungs were constricting, so it was a bit difficult.

He leaned even closer, his breath hot on her face. "How many of my men do you think you've killed? It has got to be a fuck ton by now. If that didn't piss me the shit off, I would be impressed."

She trembled. She had to do something, she had to fix this. _Think, fucking think…_

His grin stretched wider.

"You're Mason, right? I'm sorry. I've already introduced myself to the rest of these sorry shits, but just so you know, I'm Negan. Now we're on first name basis, I think it's appropriate I lay a little bit of reality on you. Hell, it's _more _than appropriate, it's a fucking obligation. But first, I'm gonna need you on your knees."

"Let…let them go." The words rasped out of her without any of the strength she hoped to back them up.

He put a hand behind his ear. "What was that, doll? You got a voice like a fucking mouse, you're gonna have to speak up."

"Let them go."

"Oh, I'm sorry." When he spoke, it was feather-soft. "Is that you telling me what to do? Christ. You people really have no fucking clue, do you?"

"I-if you let them go, you…you can have me. I'll—I'll go with you, I'll do anything."

Muffled protests behind her, but she ignored them.

"Much as that is a tempting offer, I'm gonna have to pass," Negan said. "That pesky 'business before pleasure' shit. But don't you worry your pretty little head, darlin', I have got something _very _special to offer you. See in order to get this shindig started, I really do need you on your knees. But I am nothing if not a generous motherfucker, so I'm giving you the choice. Kneel for me, now. Or…we see how nutty this party's gonna get."

A choice. From the gleam in his eye, she knew what that choice was.

She could kneel. Or he could kill her.

Frantically, she thought maybe that was the answer. Maybe that was the only way to fix things. He killed her, got his vengeance out of his system, then let her family go. Yeah. That had to be it, right? She could do that. She could do it.

Panic fogged her brain and it was difficult to think around it.

After a beat, Negan said, "_Or_, if you do not make a decision, one will be made for you in the form of me picking some random unlucky bastard and bashing his fucking skull in. So what's it gonna be?"

She steeled herself. Wished she had the strength to look back at her family one more time.

"No," she said.

Delight bloomed on Negan's face. "Gonna be a no, huh? Well, color me un-fucking-surprised. Okay. Let's get this party started."

He raised a hand, but not the one she was expecting. She watched in confusion as he snapped his fingers.

Loud rustling, followed by a thick, hideous crack.

Two bodies dropped down from the trees, hanging from nooses.

Sam and Bea.

A strangled cry left her as their bodies spasmed, heads at unnatural angles. Instinct had her lunging forward, but Negan shoved her back.

A choice.

A choice.

She'd been wrong, he hadn't intended to kill her at all, and she'd…she'd…

Someone kicked her legs out from under her, forcing her to her knees. She assumed at first that it was Al, until she looked up to see Stoney sneering down at her.

She gaped, tears rolling down her cheeks. Not real. Not real.

He strode over to Negan's side. Others followed him. Paula, Patricia, James, Vick, Jeremy… Deb was the last to trail after them, eliciting muted screeches and sobs from Tanner and Ashlee.

"Now _that _is how you start fucking party!" Negan crowed.

Mason shook her head desperately, spattering rain from her hair. No no this wasn't happening it wasn't happening it wasn't…

"Alright. Time to get to that nitty-gritty. Which of you is Ezekiel?"

Negan prowled to the center of the line and pointed his bat at Ezekiel. Fear flared in Mason's belly.

"It's you, isn't it? _Shit_, you really do give off that royalty vibe, don't you? Well, your Highness, I have someone very important for you to meet."

Negan tossed the bat expertly in his hand.

"This is Lucille. She is my absolute favorite. I bet you got a few favorites right here with you, too. I hear some of you theater rats even got _knighted _recently. Imagine my ever-loving bewilderment hearing _that_! I mean, fucking _knights_? Oh, by the way, you have these fine fuckers over here to thank for all this information I've been privy to."

He waved a hand at Deb and the others, who had all been given guns. Fury churned somewhere below a sea of shock.

Traitors. Fucking _traitors_.

"Man. Stings like a fissure in your ass, doesn't it? You thought you had this shit handled, but you absolutely fucking _did not_. Stoney here tells me you got a little information out of our late friend, Adam. Sorry to tell you he omitted some things. For instance, how we have _more_ than five outposts and over _two hundred men_. Puts a new spin on this defiant teenager shit you got going on."

Mason's head swam. Two hundred?

"Now, I don't want to appear unreasonable. I get it. No one wants an uninvited dick in their mouth. No means no, right? At least until the day you figure out a dick in your mouth is better than some of the alternatives. I'm hoping today can be that day."

Negan scrutinized each of them. Mason pinned him with her gaze, throwing every ounce of loathing into it, though her insides felt suddenly fragile, like the lightest breeze might dismantle her.

They could still win this. They could avenge Sam and Bea, somehow, they could still…

"Let's get the gags out of these pricks' mouths. We're coming up on the call and response portion of this sermon."

Mason watched anxiously as the Saviors approached her family. None of them spoke as their gags were pulled free. Their expressions ranged from rage to grief to terror.

And she couldn't protect them.

She tried to deny it, but the realization unfolded in her anyway, splintering cruelly into hundreds of teeth, latching on, shaking her down…

No. No. She had to protect them, she _had _to.

"Now," Negan purred. "I'm gonna make this real fucking simple for you. From here on out, you give me your shit. Whatever I ask for, you hand it over. That's about as simple as it gets. If you do _not_ comply to these terms, Lucille here's gonna get a little taste of your brains. You people don't know how lucky you are. We could have busted down that gate, we could have mowed down every last one of you. But I'm a generous motherfucker. And I saw the potential in you. I want you to work for me. But you can't do that with your heads smashed in, can you?"

He paused, once again roving over them with that dark, glittering gaze. The pseudo-friendliness cooled.

"Tonight is the last time I'm offering," he growled. "You don't get to fuck me as often as you've fucked me without giving back. I understand this recent shift in alliances leaves you with fewer people. That's why I'm not going to kill more of you."

_Kill more of you. _Mason's eyes flicked to Sam and Bea. But something in his tone made her think that wasn't what he meant.

"Negan," Ezekiel pleaded. "My people—"

Negan aimed Lucille at him. "Never interrupt a man when he's giving a speech. You of all people should know that."

But Ezekiel went on. "All this is my doing. Take me and be done with this—"

Negan slammed Lucille on the ground, spraying mud into the air. "_Hey_. You utter one more fucking word, and I'm gonna stand your ass up and make you decide who gets the honor."

Gets the honor. Who gets the honor.

The words crept down Mason's spine like ice.

Negan motioned to Al. "Who are you?"

Al answered promptly, "Negan."

"There it is. _That_ is exactly what I'm looking for. I want you all to roll that around in your minds, because in a moment, we're gonna have a pop quiz. But first, that giving back I mentioned."

He twirled Lucille expertly. Mason's stomach twirled in unison.

"I'm gonna pick one of you," Negan said. "And then I'm going to beat the fucking life out of you. An example needs to be made, and a price has to be paid. You have cost me more men, more bullets, more time and energy than I have _ever _invested in a single group before. In order to keep the team in play, someone's gotta strike out."

He strolled back and forth as he spoke, sizing each of them up like he was choosing his next meal. Mason straightened her spine, silently willing him to pick her, begging him to. But he walked away.

"Hmm," he finally said. "This truly is a tough decision. I really hope you people understand that I do not make it lightly. I hate wasting shit. But sometimes, when the TV stops working, you just gotta put your fucking fist through it."

Without warning, he swung the bat square onto Scott's head.

Kelsey and Dave screamed. All the air gushed out of Mason, but there was no sound to put to it, she couldn't manage it.

Negan raised Lucille for another strike, though Scott already lay twitching on the ground. But Kelsey shrieked and leaped at him.

"_No_!" Dave cried and scrambled to stop her, and suddenly the whole line-up was rushing to intervene.

Dray and Jerry managed to pull Kelsey back, but Negan grabbed Dave by the front of his shirt and raised Lucille. Dave shut his eyes tight.

Somehow, Mason and Ezekiel got there in time. Ezekiel broke Negan's hold on Dave and shoved him away. Mason punched Negan in the face and grabbed Lucille. The razor wire bit deep into her palm.

Negan's eyes widened in shock. He hit her hard enough to split her lip, wrenched Lucille away and jabbed it into Mason's stomach.

She fell on her ass. Mud seeped into her clothes. Everyone was forced back to their knees, this time with guns trained on them. Stoney pressed his to Mason's head and looked expectantly at Negan, who was rubbing his jaw.

"Hoo, _shit_," he said. "_Look _at this little pistol go! She has got some lady balls. I don't want to kill that."

Though the pain in her stomach doubled her over, Mason managed to curl her lips in a snarl.

_Do it. Just fucking do it. Justfuckingdoit!_

"But unfortunately, that hero shit does not fly with me. Zero tolerance for it at this juncture in our relationship, to be quite honest."

His eyes marked her.

"Alrighty, then. Now that we've established that…"

He brought the bat down on Kelsey's head.

Dave's wail pierced the roaring in Mason's ears, but it was the only thing that could. She watched in disbelief as mud and blood soared into the air, as Kelsey's skull split like an overripe fruit, and then she had to look away.

Her eyes wheeled through the deluge, touching on Ezekiel as he held Dave's hysterical form to his chest, hiding him from the sight, on the faces of the rest of her family as the rain ate their tears, on her own fingers grasping at the mud for something, something.

She didn't realize she was shuddering until Negan grabbed her by the hair. She struggled, crying weakly, as he dragged her the few feet to Kelsey's body.

"Take a good look, doll," he said, forcing her face into the mess that used to be Kelsey. "I want you to remember what you've done."

Mason whimpered and choked, clawing at his hand, pushing against the ground. But he just pressed her face lower until she felt the blood, hot and sticky on her cheek, in vile contrast to the chill of the mud.

"_Stop_," she wailed. "_Please_."

Finally, he tossed her to the side. She tumbled like a ragdoll, the world spinning past her eyes, headlights and night shadows and rain, and there was blood in her mouth, there was blood in her mouth and she knew the taste, she knew the taste because she'd done this before, she'd killed before, that was all she was good for, that was all she was…

She retched violently. She needed it out, she needed it all out…

"Now that we understand each other," Negan said. There was a pause. Somehow, Mason managed to look up.

He stood before the line-up, pinwheeling Lucille like a baton. Blood and brain matter spun from it like sparks.

"Who are you?"

No one in the line-up spoke. There was only the tiny, pitiful sound of their grief.

His eyes flashed. "I said, _who are you_?"

Charlie threw a glance at Ezekiel and Dave, at Mason, then answered through clenched teeth, "Negan."

After a heartbeat, the rest of the line-up echoed her dully, then Jerry, then Dray.

Finally, Negan turned to Ezekiel and Mason.

"Who are you?"

Neither of them spoke. Mason wasn't sure she was even capable at this point. The rain hammered down, merciless in the silence.

When it was clear they weren't going to say anything, Negan cocked his head.

"Grab these two," he ordered his men. "We're gonna take a little field trip. The rest of you, stay put. Anyone tries anything, I give you total permission to start hacking off whatever tickles your fancy, I mean, really go apeshit."

And there was nothing either of them could do, nothing anyone could do, as Mason and Ezekiel were jerked roughly to their feet and led past the headlights, into the dark.

**A/N: Just as a sidenote, I rewatched 6x16 and 7x01, so that I could be properly motivated by the fucked-up vibe of the line-up to write this version. I...kinda forgot how rough those episodes are to watch. Anyway, so next chapter will be the final part of this interlude, I know it's been a long one, but we're almost there. After that, we'll be returning to present day Team Family and the Kingdom! Thanks once again for reading, I truly hope you enjoyed, and until next time, much love xoxo**


	21. Numb

**A/N: Hello, all. For the conclusion of this interim, I have chosen "Numb" by Marina and the Diamonds as the chapter song, because I think it's a great one to describe where Mason's at mentally. As always, thank you all so much for reading and reviewing, it means so much to me. Hope you enjoy.**

21\. Second Interim, pt. 4: Numb

In a narrow, gray hallway, Negan eyed Mason and Ezekiel peculiarly, then turned to his men.

"I thought you said there was a tiger."

"They didn't bring it with them," someone answered.

"Well, shit, I was hoping to see _that_. Ah, well. Maybe we can arrange a little tour of your Kingdom sometime. You can introduce me."

Mason didn't say anything. Too busy trying to get her shivering under control. Like the rest of them, soaked to the bone, but unlike the rest, painted completely in blood.

Physically, it all had washed away with the rain, but that made no difference. She knew it would never really come off. It was a part of her now.

"Take his royal highness to my quarters. I wanna show Miss Pistol here something important."

Her head jerked up. She reached for Ezekiel and he reached for her, grasping uselessly at each other's arms as the Saviors wrenched them apart.

"No, _no_—" Ezekiel snarled. "Leave her! Leave her be!"

But they dragged him away, leaving Mason with Negan and four others. She tried to glare at them, tried to feel anything at all. Only a thrumming, animal fear remained.

"Follow me, doll," Negan said, striding in the opposite direction of wherever Ezekiel had been taken. One of the Saviors prodded her forward with her own fire poker. Another mockingly aimed her shield at her.

They passed other people. Mason didn't notice much about them except that they all lowered their heads to Negan. But they met no one as they came to a grim hallway lined with metal doors.

Her heart beat at a new, unbalanced meter. Something about this place, the walls, the shadows creeping in, made her feel trapped.

Negan stopped at a door on the end. Three Saviors raised their guns while the fourth pulled out a key and unlocked it.

Fluorescent light flooded a small, concrete room. Mason gagged as a ferocious stench gusted out, and her eyes settled on a figure huddled on the floor. She thought it was a walker at first before it looked up, and she realized with horror that it was a person.

Naked but for the 'X' spray-painted on their chest. Skin sunken in around their bones. Hair grown long and wild, matted with filth. Starvation etched harshly into every inch of them. Their gleaming eyes wheeled, seemed to grab hers. She wanted to look away and couldn't.

"How you doing there, Louis?" Negan leaned in with a grin. "Louis here was the leader of a group—kind of like yours, but way smaller. They had a bit of a listening problem, too."

Louis wheezed something incomprehensible. Negan nodded like he understood.

"He's on this new cat food diet," he told Mason. "Or is it dog food now? Whichever one it is, it makes this poor bastard reek to high heaven. The pounds sure are melting off, though…"

Bile burned the back of her throat. "You're a monster," she whispered.

"I can be." He turned and seized her chin in one hand. She jerked but he tightened his grip till her cheekbones ached. "You don't know how tiring it gets trying to reason with all these stubborn cunt-fuckers who think they don't have to observe the new rules for this reason or that. _No one _is exempt."

Without warning, he shoved her into the cell. The wall slammed the breath out of her and panic took its place. Gasping, she reached out.

"No, no, wait—"

The door slammed shut. She scrambled toward the sliver of light leaking through the bottom, but the door wouldn't budge.

Negan's voice sounded next to her. He was grinning, she could hear it.

"Let me know if I got you pegged, doll, because I think I do. You strike me as the type that hurts people. Not on purpose, I mean, not all the time. But listen, you got a lot of your friends smoked out there, in some not-so- pretty ways. I mean, my Lucille really brained that blonde lady. All just because you wanted to prove you had some big brass lady balls. They are commendable, I'll give you that. But not at the cost of your loved ones, right?"

Tears slid down her cheeks. The words crawled in like cockroaches.

"I'm only being brutally honest so you can learn from this shit, that's just the kind of stand-up guy I am, but listen. Here's what's gonna happen if you don't break out of this unfortunate pattern. I'm gonna throw your King and all your precious people into these cells, and I'm gonna let them rot. They will eat only when I say they can, they will shit where they sleep and forget the sun. Maybe I'll rough 'em up every few days, just to keep things interesting. But one thing's sure as hell, it will not be a quick process. And I want you to think about that while you're in here, doll. Because if that day comes—and it might very well be coming soon—I want you to be damn good and sure you know just how much you'll be to blame."

Footsteps faded down the hall. Mason collapsed in the corner, shaking with tears.

_You strike me as the type that hurts people._

Fragments of Kelsey's skull Sam and Bea's convulsing shadows Monty's motionless body—

_(sometimes you really let me down)_

Nick Naomi Gina and Beth thinking she would see Mason again and the future Ava would never have and Dave's pain and Dray's pain and Charlie's pain and Tanner's and Ashlee's and…

_(your mother never used to cry like this)_

And her mother's.

A low keening left her throat. She thought she might shake apart.

He was right. Intentional or not, she hurt people.

She'd thought she was powerful, back in Gregory's office, winning supplies for her people. She'd thought she was doing the right thing, finally, _finally, _in staying for them. She'd thought she could call herself Champion and that would fix everything.

She was not powerful. She was not anything.

She squeaked in alarm as a hand grasped feebly at her sleeve. In the cord of limited light, Louis' eyes gleamed pleadingly, his chapped lips moving without a sound. Pity squeezed her throat. She felt the desert once more on her back, dust her lungs. But she was soaked to the bone.

Carefully, she squeezed the water from her hair and clothes into Louis' mouth. It wasn't the most sanitary, but given his current living conditions she didn't think it made much difference. He certainly didn't protest.

When she'd wrung out all she could, Louis mouthed a _thank you_ before his eyes fluttered shut. She trained her gaze on the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

Ezekiel could be lying there instead. Any one of her Misfits, or Jerry, or Rita, Richard. Or—

But, no. Not Ava. Nothing would happen to Ava, she couldn't allow it.

She did not know how much time passed. It could've been hours or minutes or years. But Louis was still breathing by the time the door opened again, and so was she but she didn't feel it.

Someone pulled her to her feet before she could adjust to the light.

"How'd you like that taste of imprisonment, doll? Doesn't look like your inmate was much of a conversationalist."

Blinking rapidly, her eyes landed on Ezekiel, surrounded by the same men who had dragged him away, while Negan carried on.

"Well, pardon the fuck out of me if I'm speaking too soon, but I do believe this has been a very educational experience for you two."

Ezekiel wouldn't meet her gaze, but his haunted expression ghosted through her like winter. Whatever Negan had shown him had broken something in his usual demeanor. He seemed…hopeless.

"_Very_ fucking educational! You look like the two most haggard gutter rat bastards that ever crawled out this side of D.C. Let's test your knowledge." His grin turned steely. "Who do you belong to?"

Mason trembled. Slowly, Ezekiel raised his eyes to hers and nodded. She felt weaker than she ever had.

"Negan," she rasped.

Negan put a hand behind his ear. "Sweet Jesus, that little mouse voice. Say it like you mean it, doll, I wanna hear some fucking _passion_! Now who the fuck do you belong to?"

"Negan."

Something was spreading through her. A slow fog. A numbness like being buried alive…

"Hell fucking _yes_." He turned to Ezekiel. "And what about you, your Highness? Who do you belong to?"

Ezekiel's voice was obsidian, stronger than Mason's. "Negan."

Triumph lit Negan's face. "Exce-fucking-llent! We love a happy ending. So now we're finished with this ugly business, let's get you back to your people…if they haven't been washed away, that is. You people sure picked a fuck of a night to do this."

But the rain had moved away. Mason caught faint flashes of lightning in the west as they were led back through the woods.

The moment she spotted the lineup, she flinched internally. They hadn't moved an inch as far as she could tell, except for Dave, curled up in Renee's arms. She couldn't look at any of them properly. Certainly not the bodies on the ground.

She and Ezekiel were shoved back down to their knees. Negan towered above them.

"Some good, good shit tonight. You should be happy to know these two finally came to their senses, so that means you all get to skip on home, where I expect you'll get right to work gathering a bunch of awesome shit for me. Now normally you'd get a month to prepare, but since I'm still a little pissed off you've wasted so many resources for me, I'm gonna be paying you a visit in a week. I reserve the right to make that a permanent arrangement if I feel you aren't fulfilling your side of the bargain, or just whenever the hell I want to."

In one unified motion, all their confiscated weapons were tossed to the ground. All except their guns.

"You know, Deb warned us about your little plan with the bigass herd, but you still managed to catch us off guard. Did it a little sooner than we were expecting. Lucky we have those other outposts I mentioned earlier, we didn't have to waste all that ammo like you wanted. Still, though…it's the principle of it all. I mean, if it weren't for all your turncoats, we might very well have been fucked right up the ass. Guess we'll never know how that might've played out. Anyway, we're taking all your guns."

Mason waited for the void inside her to spark with outrage, but nothing stirred.

The Saviors piled into their trucks, the Kingdom traitors with them, and disappeared into the forest. They were gone, but Negan's presence still loomed.

No one moved for a long time. Dawn light leaked through the branches before Ezekiel rose stiffly to his feet.

"We must…we must return to our Kingdom," he said.

Another long pause, and then Dave broke free of Renee's arms and crawled to his parents. His sobs broke the silence. Something inside Mason constricted tighter and tighter with the sound.

"C'mon, guys," Jerry said, taking his place on Ezekiel's right. She had never seen him look so subdued. "Let's go home."

_(you're almost)_

"Home," Mason mouthed. Where was that anymore? Where was it?

In pieces, everyone unfroze. Tanner, Richard and Lily went to lower Sam and Bea to the ground. Charlie, Dray and Ashlee hugged Dave, murmuring too low to hear.

_Move. _The thought was dust, distance. She tried again. _Move. They need you._

Somehow she made it to her feet. But not all of her. Part of her would stay here, always, staring at the ground.

They gathered their weapons. Then she, Ezekiel and Jerry hoisted Scott between the three of them. The others split themselves among Kelsey, Sam and Bea. The woods an eternity as they carried the bodies back to the road.

She didn't come back to herself on the drive home. She was sure there was nothing to come back to.

~m~

A week passed. When the Saviors came, she handed them boxes brimming with clothes and food and the rest of their guns, so they must have scavenged at some point. It was hard to remember around the gaping wounds bored into their daily lives.

There were absences everywhere. A spot for Sam in the garden, advising them on the best way to protect their crops from frost. A spot for Bea in the makeshift barn, where she'd cared for the livestock.

Others were harder to coexist with. A spot for Scott and Kelsey, dancing in their kitchen together. A spot for Monty next to Dray, next to her.

Everything became a blur of flinching away from things—the gaps left behind by the people she'd lost, the stinging presence of everyone she had left to lose.

She stuck close to the Misfits, though it felt like holding a hand over an open flame. There wasn't much any of them could offer in the way of comfort, but brokenly, they tried.

She slept and woke and remembered and forgot, and she waited.

She didn't know what she was waiting for. There couldn't have been anything left to find, but still.

She waited.

~m~

"What…did he show you?"

"I cannot talk about that. I will not."

"But—I told you what he showed me. Maybe you shouldn't keep that bottled up."

"Mason. I will not talk about it. I have shared enough burdens with you."

"…What are we gonna do now?"

"We…are going to build ourselves around this."

"How?"

"We just are."

~m~

Not long after their first collection day, Jesus met her at the gate. She blinked at him, trying to make sense of his familiarity.

"Mason?" He said her name like he didn't recognize her. Did she look different? She must; everything inside her felt changed. "Are you—where have you been?"

"I…" She looked around at Renee and Ashlee, who made up her patrol. Neither of them said anything, faces grim "We're going out. Scavenging."

As he took in her response, his face darkened. "What happened?"

She shook her head. She hadn't been doing a lot of talking since the morning they'd made it back to the Kingdom. It felt like too much now.

He touched her arm. She jumped away.

"We're going out," she said again.

"Let me come with you."

"No. Go home."

"Mason, let me help."

She tried to summon up some vestige of the old antagonism they shared, the comfort of that. But she only had so much energy to spare, and she had to put it toward survival.

"Come or go, whatever you want," she said. "We're not going far."

It was silent as they started out, but after a while, Jesus fell into step next to her.

"They won, didn't they?" he asked quietly.

There was a long pause, in which her head filled up with screaming, before she nodded.

Thankfully, he dropped the subject. They spent the day scavenging, and pulled a pretty decent haul, though Mason felt nothing resembling satisfaction.

It was only when they were done and heading back that Jesus pulled her aside and said, "I'm so sorry. I…I wanted things to be different for you."

Part of her was touched by the sincerity in his voice. Most of her just wanted him to stop talking about it.

"If there's anything I can do—"

"There's nothing, Jesus," she murmured thickly. "There's nothing."

When they returned to the Kingdom, he asked hesitantly if she still wanted to meet up the way they had been. But what would be the point? What was the point anymore in training to fight?

"I don't know," she admitted.

"Well…you know where to find me, sweetheart, okay?"

After unloading their finds, she wandered the Kingdom. Aimless circles, past the garden and the courtyard, the barn and the gym. The day shuttered to night and the temperature dropped. Autumn was swelling in the trees and would soon claim the days. God, the years were relentless. It felt like it had just been winter yesterday.

Eventually, she found herself in the auditorium. Ezekiel was likely out on patrol; he'd been running himself ragged trying to fill what gaps he could. So the stage was empty but for Shiva, who raised her head as Mason approached.

She didn't know why. She'd never been around Shiva without Ezekiel before. The tiger was chained up now, but the chain was long, allowing her room to roam. If she wanted to, she could easily jump the distance, but Mason couldn't find it in herself to care.

As she climbed on stage, she held up a hand and said, "Hey." Shiva flicked an ear, otherwise motionless.

Slowly, she reached out. "Hey, girl."

Shiva let out a low rumble. She couldn't be sure, but she thought it sounded less like a threat and more like a greeting.

Then her fingers brushed fur, and Shiva leaned into the touch with another rumble. The ghost of a smile touched Mason's lips.

"Yeah. You're just like my old cat, Kumquat. A little more intimidating."

She scratched behind Shiva's ear, who flopped over with an agreeable growl.

Unexpectedly, her eyes stung. There was something so unchanged and comforting in Shiva's lazy contentment.

"Bea said I wasn't allowed around the livestock. Because I'd get too attached. It was sort of a joke, but…she was right."

In her head, Bea dropped from that tree over and over, thrashing next to her wife. She tried not to let the images in, but it felt like pushing against a tidal wave. Scott's fingers were twitching and her face was being pressed into a puddle of blood and brain matter…

She wiped at her cheek. Her hand went numb, sliding in warm wetness, before she realized it was just tears.

_You're not back there. You're right here. You're here._

She buried her fingers deeper in Shiva's ruff. Tiger's fur. Not mud, not…not red.

Shiva let out a long, low growl, and it felt like a purr, and she tried to make her breathing as even.

She was here. She was here.

~m~

There was much to be done, and Mason wasn't sure how any of them found the strength to do it.

Supply patrols in constant rotation, there were never enough left behind to defend the Kingdom properly. Mason tried to take on as many solo trips as she could.

With no guns left until they scavenged more, they had to teach themselves to make and use bows and arrows. There was an inevitable learning curve.

Prep work was needed to prepare the garden for the cold months, grass to guard and condition the soil, and shelter a few late-blooming plants from the frost that would soon be upon them. However, with the exception of a few wintering crops, there would be nothing to pull from it until spring. They would have to supplement their offerings with canned and dried goods, which they were desperately low on. Which meant between supply runs there was hardly any time to prep the garden.

The cycle was endless and Mason wasn't sure how they were going to get out of it. Everyone slept very little; nightmares awaited them when they found the time.

"Well," Jerry said during one the nightly meetings he, Mason and Ezekiel shared. "Now that we're not, you know, at war, maybe we should check out some of those places outside our usual rotation? The ones Renee's uncle mapped out."

Mason had seen the map. Some of the places were several days' journey away, but their potential had been scribbled in the margins, and she had to admit if they were correct, it would be criminal to pass them up.

Briefly, Mason thought of Alexandria. They'd gone to check on it since the herd and found its walls had been rebuilt, whether by the same people or different. There'd been some debate, whether they should see if there might be supplies to barter there. But they were in no position to risk retaliation, not to mention they had nothing to trade.

They decided on Culpeper, one of the furthest destinations, and set to work prepping for the journey.

~m~

Before they left, a meeting was held. Everyone was present, their solemnity weighing down the air.

It was decided, after a short, quiet debate, that the Kingdom needed to recruit more people. They were low on food, which was a definite concern, but they also couldn't continue the way they were with so few among their ranks. They were exhausted already. They would drown under the demands.

Ezekiel had brought the subject up with Mason and Jerry first, and she had argued bitterly against it. The thought of having others here, others she didn't know she could trust with her whole heart the way she trusted the Knights, trying to muster up that kind of faith again with new people… It was almost unbearable.

But now she kept her mouth shut. Everyone seemed to agree with Ezekiel, and deep down, she knew they were right. Never mind that she didn't need to sow discord with her fears, those images she couldn't stifle: Stoney kicking her to the ground, Deb and Vick and Patricia marching over to the Saviors' side…

"I am relieved to know we are all in agreement on this matter," Ezekiel said. "However, there is another that concerns me, one that I have given a great deal of thought to. If we are to bring people in, I believe it would be unwise to reveal to them our bargain with the Saviors. I do not believe they should know of the Saviors at all, if it can be helped. More than anything else, we cannot risk provocation. We cannot risk any newcomers deciding it would be best to fight. Tell me now if anyone is in disagreement."

But no one was, not even Mason. Everyone looked at each other, with varying degrees of the trauma that haunted them, and no one said a word. No one had to. The pain that linked them all was a palpable thing, burning in the silence.

Everyone took the vow that day. That no matter what, they would keep secret the Saviors and the bargain, the war and anything that might expose it. Ezekiel would speak to Negan at the earliest opportunity to arrange for their offerings to be collected elsewhere, and there was relief at the thought that a Savior might never step foot in their Kingdom again.

"My friends, beloved family of mine, thank you," Ezekiel said. "I swear I will do everything in my power to assure you reap the rewards befitting of your struggles and sacrifices." Then he turned to Mason, Jerry and Dray. "Come. We must away, and make all that we can of this day."

~m~

Negan agreed to hold collections away from the Kingdom. Considering they brought back twenty-six survivors from Culpeper, this was especially fortunate. Mason spent the next few days repressing the way he'd looked at her during this meeting, like he knew every part of her and owned it implicitly.

It was the opposite of the way the newcomers looked at her. Like they never wanted to know her, like all they saw was her violence that night at the bunker. It made her feel like a beast moving through them, lumbering, desperate to stay small. But no matter what she did, they kept looking at her like she was covered in blood.

Maybe they did know her like Negan did. Maybe they had her pegged.

She never said anything about these looks. She shied away from everyone as much as she could, so she noticed them less.

The newcomers set to work on all the neglected duties around the Kingdom, freeing Ezekiel and his Knights to embark on longer, farther missions. They brought in a family of four living out of an RV. They brought in an engineer named Randy.

Most importantly, they brought in supplies, stores and stores of them from a warehouse Renee's uncle had mapped out. The pressure lessened, and though they couldn't celebrate outwardly, Mason read it in the clandestine glances of everyone who took the vow.

Fall swept in, ushering in a dry spell. Water was brought in from the quarry. Randy claimed he could construct an aqueduct from it to filtration tanks outside the Kingdom, but that it would take significant time and machinery they didn't currently possess. Until then, he led a crew to expand the walls on the south side of the Kingdom, for more crops and livestock.

When winter came, they were well-prepared, and so the Knights took advantage of any opportunity to stay home. Something tentative blossomed among her Misfits, sunrise pushing through clouds. They started to smile again, brief like light glancing off glass, but still enough to blind her.

Mason couldn't join them.

She roamed woods and nearby towns, looking for something, for something…

She found books about trauma and recovery for her Misfits and never read any herself. She scavenged extra toys for Ava and the other children. She found Dray the tattoo equipment she'd promised, and in return, he adorned her with all the tattoos she asked for.

Flowers, one for each person they'd lost. Tendrils connecting them, weaving gossamer over her body. A small water tower below her right shoulder blade, "wait" printed in the center. She savored the pain of each one, called it penance.

When she was home, she never felt so. She began seeking refuge in secret places, in groves and old buildings she never told anyone else about, watched the first snowfall of the year from the back of a dusty Mercedes. Wondered how long she could keep going like this.

~m~

Two men arrived at their gate a week after that first snowfall, one of the rare occasions Mason found herself home with nothing to do. Ezekiel, Jerry, Lily and Dray had gone to face collection, and they always liked to have as many Knights on deck as possible during that time.

She wasn't on watch, but she spotted Tina and Donovan lead the men in. Something about the way their eyes gleamed as they took in their surroundings kindled a dormant flame in her. She strode over, muscles tight.

"…have a greenhouse, at least in the future. For now, though, we've got our garden—"

"Who are you?" Her voice was a thunder crack, surprising herself as much as the others.

Donovan frowned. "Mason. This is James and Saul. They're just passing through, but they're hungry and wanted to shelter from the cold a bit."

"Why did you let them in without contacting me or one of the other Knights?" She was aware her body was poised in a defensive stance, but she didn't seem to be in control of it.

Saul looked nervous, but James sized her up, intrigued.

"Well, they're not staying, Mason," Tina said. "What's the big deal? We've got food to spare."

She said it so flippantly. _Food to spare_. Like they didn't bleed for it. Dimly, she noticed people gathering around them and a flash of panic had her breath quickening. That same feeling from the cell in the Sanctuary, except…except now she wasn't afraid of being trapped.

She was afraid she would destroy everything breaking herself out.

After a long silence, she said, "They will wait outside until Ezekiel gets back. He can decide if we have food to spare."

Donovan sighed shortly. "Why the hell are you tripping? We're not gonna make them wait around, freezing their asses off."

"I'm sure Ezekiel will be fine with it," Tina added.

"You know that for a fact?" Richard spoke up. Mason realized that he and the rest of the Knights were gathered loyally around her. Renee caught her eye and nodded to the strangers as if to ask, _You don't trust them?_

Mason shook her head slightly. How could she trust them, how could she trust…?

"They will wait outside," she repeated brittly. "You don't make decisions for this Kingdom."

"Oh, and are you king now?" Donovan said.

James held up one hand. "Look, lady, we don't want to cause problems, but…we haven't eaten in _four days_. We need _something_ here."

"Maybe we shouldn't…" Saul started.

"Where else are we gonna find a place like this? No, no, we're not leaving without food."

Mason catalogued their every movement. Saul's darting eyes, so much like Adam's the day she'd gotten that information out of him.

_That _false _information. Those lies._

James with one hand in the air like a plea, and the other stiff at his side.

Was it edging closer to the gun on his belt?

Mason breathed out like a bull, but it did not relieve the pressure building in her chest, the familiar heat wave climbing her shoulders. She met James' gaze.

"Do not."

But his hand twitched, fingers brushing the holster, and she moved before she could stop herself. He wasn't expecting that; he fumbled as he pulled the gun free. He lifted it to waist-level before she clamped a hand around his and yanked it back down.

The gun went off. The bullet ricocheted off the concrete, raising shouts from the crowd. Mason drilled her thumb into the man's wrist until the gun tumbled from his hand. Then she let go, picked it up and shot him. Warmth splattered her face.

Screaming, the loudest from Donovan, Tina… She heard her Misfits calling her name, but they were somewhere else. _She _was somewhere else.

Saul ran for the gate. Her eyes tracked him, steady as she raised the gun again.

"Mason, _no_!"

Dave grasped her tightly, cinching her arms. She broke free, but Saul had gone.

"Mason, stop, it's _over_," Dave insisted.

Richard, Ashlee and Renee stepped in front of her while Tanner and Charlie rushed to close the gate.

Fury rode the wave of her next breath. "What the fuck are you doing? We can't let him go!"

"He ran away," Renee said. "He didn't try anything."

She shook her head impatiently. Did they really think that made a difference?

"_You know what happens when we let them go_." Each word a jagged snarl. Each word a fragment of what they'd lost.

But around her, people were crying. People were backing away, staring at James' body like they'd never seen one before. Staring at her like they were seeing her all too clearly.

She stared back as her fingers went numb.

His blood was on her face, there was blood on her face—

The gun clattered to the ground and she pulled away from Dave. She shook her head once, then again, but she wasn't sure what she was denying. Everyone gave her a wide berth except for the Knights, who reached for her as if to hold her.

She didn't deserve to be held.

She hurt people.

"Don't touch me," she hissed and fled blindly. She wanted to be away, she wanted the safety and comfort of one of her hiding places, but they were all outside the Kingdom, and the rational part of her knew she had to face the music once Ezekiel got back.

She crawled under a pine tree in their small orchard. The boughs were thick enough to keep out the snow, and it warmed up quickly within their embrace. It was like dusk among them, so little light seeped through the needles. She didn't sleep but she didn't feel awake, either.

After an eternity, she heard people calling her name. Her Misfits. Jerry. Ezekiel. She emerged from her dark womb, raw and flinching from the cold.

"Lady Mason." Ezekiel's relieved voice sounded nearby. She bowed her head when she saw him, awaiting the anger, but he just scooped a gentle arm around her and got her to her feet.

Jerry and Dave called out and Ezekiel hollered back, "I found her! She is alright."

He led her to the auditorium and onto the stage. No one else was there except Shiva.

"Where is everyone?" she mumbled.

"I have asked that everyone give us some space while we sort through this," Ezekiel replied. Rubbed her shoulders vigorously like he was trying to get her warm, then sat her down. "Now. Will you tell me what happened today?"

"Didn't they already?"

"They did. But I must hear it from you."

So she told him, in a halting, robotic voice she did not recognize as her own. He listened gravely until the end and then closed his eyes.

She watched him for a long time. There was no noise but the steady rasp of Shiva giving herself a bath.

"Mason," he finally said. "I…I am so sorry. I have failed you, tremendously so."

She blinked. "How…have you failed me?"

When he opened his eyes, it was like stripping away a veil. "When we met, I swear it was like looking at an old snapshot."

The normalcy of his voice, the absence of his usual kingly lilt, jolted her. She was too stunned to question it as he went on.

"You were…angry. Because things had been done to you, and your loved ones. I could see that. I could _feel _it. Because I've felt it, too, in my own skin. Anger so bad you know it could destroy you if you let it, and sometimes you want to let it."

He sighed shakily. "When this all started, I was separated from my wife and my two boys."

She felt she was carved from stone. Ezekiel had never mentioned a family before, never let on that he'd had a wife or children…

"See, we were in D.C. at the time, and the city was… There are no words for the chaos. They'd locked everything down to get all the fat cats out, but us little people…we were left to fend for ourselves. And when we lost power, when the food ran out and the decomps started filling the streets, we broke down the barricades to escape.

"We were in a group—not anyone we really knew, just people we fell in with on our way out to fight the dead. There were so many decomps, and so many of us didn't know what we were doing at the time. I fell back to hold some of them off, and my…my wife wanted to stay with me. But I told her to go, you know, 'get to a car, get to a car'. We were running out of time, and I thought…I thought they'd be safer. Safer in a group."

Tears glistened on his cheeks, but his expression was hard. He paused for a long time, and she had the feeling he was editing in his head. Things maybe he couldn't bear putting to words.

"I fell back just in time to see…those cowards…" He clenched his teeth. "To see them abandon my family. And not just abandon, but…they _used _them as a means to escape."

Another long silence. Mason couldn't help thinking of how she'd run away and left her friends to the herd in Kansas. But she'd had Ava with her. And she'd gone back, tried to help…

"But those people, they didn't make it out of the city. Those men that sacrificed my family, I tracked them down, and I…I let them turn," he said, clearly editing again. "And I holed up with them in an old clothing store, and I kept them. For days and days, I'm not even sure how long. Used them as target practice; that's how I learned to shoot a gun. There was nothing in me but that anger. It was a terrible place to be, and I know you know that.

"And then one day, I don't know how, it was all bled out. I'd worn through my anger and I was nothing but tired. All I could think was, _What now?_"

Mason let out a breath. That sounded familiar.

"So I wandered. Found myself back at the zoo where I used to work, because that was the only place I could bear to be. That's how I came by Shiva." He smiled a little in her direction. She lay on her side, snoozing.

"Caged up. Starving. I knew how that felt. So I let her out, took her with me. Last thing in the world that I loved…at least, I thought at the time. Not long after that, we found Jerry. And they helped me…_feel _again. Love, friendship, hope. And I got better."

She nodded, realizing there were tears on her cheeks, too.

"I got better, but, Mason…" Ezekiel leaned toward her. "I don't know if I would have if I'd held onto that anger. I don't know who Jerry would have found, who any of you would have found if I had. And I thought for so long I was able to let it go because of…what I did to those men, those decomps. Because I purged my vengeance through them. That's why I thought I understood why you wanted to interrogate Kurt, execute Adam. That's why I let you. And I am so sorry for that. Because I realize now…I had to _choose _hope. It wasn't my prize for exacting vengeance, and I don't claim to know if that vengeance was right or wrong. Maybe it was both. But I had to _choose _what I wanted the rest of my life to be. _You _have to."

It took her a moment to speak. Her throat was tight. "What if I…can't?"

He reached out and held her hands, smiled through his tears. "I believe in you, Mason. There is a way forward that doesn't destroy you. You just have to find that way, whatever it is."

She didn't know if she believed him. She looked down and said, "So…do they want me kicked out, or what?"

"That's not going to happen." His voice was flint. "They will accept that you are a part of this Kingdom or they can find some other place to live."

"Thank you. But…if it would be easier for you…I can go."

"_No._ You are my family now. I will protect you." Fire flashed in his eyes before dimming. He let out a small, broken sound. "As much as I can protect anyone these days. I really fucked up here, huh?"

Then he crumpled into sobs, pressing a hand to his face. Mason startled. She had never seen him break down before, not like this. Even when they lost someone, even after kneeling for the Saviors. He put on such a show sometimes it was easy to forget there was just a man behind the King. Just a man trying to carry a Kingdom.

She scooted forward and wrapped her arms around him. She felt the ghost of that night at the Sanctuary, just the two of them against Negan's inevitability, and cried, too.

But when the tears ran dry, she pressed her forehead to his and said, "The world is fucked up. But _you _are a good king."

"And you are a good champion," he said. "A good person. I hope you remember that, and I hope that you know…you are not alone in this. I am here, we are all here for you, just as you are for us."

She swallowed hard. "Yeah. I…I know."

~m~

He'd been reaching for his gun. She couldn't have let him hurt her people.

But he'd been hungry. Desperate.

She knew what it was like to have survival drive you to desperation.

Maybe there had been a better way to handle things. Maybe there could have been a peaceful resolution. Maybe he was only reaching for his gun because he felt threatened by her.

But she would never know now.

~m~

Ezekiel kept his word and defended her to the newcomers. The Knights did as well. Though no one explained about the Saviors, they told the newcomers in no uncertain terms that the world had changed, and not all strangers could be trusted. As no one wanted to leave the safety of the Kingdom, they all accepted Mason's place in it, but nothing could be done to make them like her.

Though Mason appreciated her family's loyalty, it stung more than ever. Even after her conversation with Ezekiel, she just felt…like the flakes in a snow globe. Erratic every time the world shook, but with nowhere to go. She'd known before the fear and frustration in being trapped, but the _numbness _of it, the chafing and dragging of the days…

She started having dreams. Of being buried alive under sand, choking as it shifted and settled around her. Pressure building like a deep dive into the sea. She tried clawing her way out, but she couldn't get any leverage, and it was so cold.

The feeling followed her into the waking world, at one point so fierce she doubled over, retching and coughing to get the sand out.

She told no one about the dreams. She was well aware her Misfits still had nightmares. In an effort to hide them, she stopped sleeping among them. She didn't sleep in Ava's room, either. She hollowed out nests under bushes, curled up under the school bus, stretched out on rooftops. The cold matched her dreams.

When the Misfits questioned where she'd gone, she simply told them she'd found space somewhere away from everyone.

She ignored their concern, insisted they worry about themselves first. Slowly, they were healing; she wasn't so gone she didn't see that. But if she stuck around, it was inevitable, she would get them hurt.

She couldn't be like this forever. She couldn't stand it.

~m~

Outside the walls, the dead waited for her like old friends. She strung wires in circles from the trees and sat at their center, singing or playing music, until the walkers came. Some days she dispatched them before they could cross the barrier.

Some days she waited, waited, waited, just to see if maybe she had it in her to let them take her.

The Misfits found her on the latter, and there was screaming and tears after they cleared the dead.

What the hell was she doing?

How could she even think of leaving them?

How the fuck did she think they would be okay if she was gone?

She screamed back, the deepest, primal hurts she'd been holding in the past few months. Guilt tore her up on its way out. She hadn't told anyone exactly what Negan had said about her that night, but she did then, in agonizing, feral sobs.

It was her fault Monty was dead. It was her fault Sam and Bea were, that Kelsey was…

And she was sorry sorry sorry but sorry wasn't enough anymore.

She expected more screaming. She expected them to agree, blame her, rake her over the coals she'd been stoking.

But they held her.

She tried to fight them at first, but they held her tighter, until the fight drained from her completely and there was nothing left but the rawest part of her she'd been denying.

No one screamed then. Everything was a whisper.

It wasn't your fault.

We love you.

We're never letting you go.

A life passed, the world cold around them, but they were warm as a beating heart. It was suddenly clear, the staggering distance she'd been holding up as a shield. How truly, deeply she'd buried herself beneath the numbness.

She didn't want to anymore.

She wanted something more.

Whether she deserved it or not, she wanted something _more_.

~m~

Every day, choices were a struggle.

Waking up among her Misfits again, forcing herself to eat breakfast with them and Ava, spending time inside the Kingdom, it was all a fight. Some days she was so tired, it felt like pushing a boulder uphill, and when it did, she would think of that peculiar quote in the desert, painted beneath the WALK sign.

"I don't have to keep trying. Remember that, I say to myself, as I keep trying."

But some days, it felt good. Some days, she smiled. Some days, they could get her to laugh. She lived for those.

Winter passed. She oversaw collections and led scavenging groups and kept watch just as she had before. But she tried to feel something more through it all.

She continued gathering walkers, but the reason changed. There were things they could be used for. She started filling her holding house again. When Jerry suggested they feed them to the pigs intended for collection, there flashed the first spark of defiance within her since kneeling.

She shaved her head that night, the side with the scar. Being Champion started to feel okay again.

When spring came, she took her Misfits to the quarry. The water was frigid, but they stayed in just long enough to laugh and shiver and remind themselves they could be alive in ways beyond survival.

The garden flourished with the lengthening days, all thanks to Sam and Bea's teachings. The orchards teemed with fruit and everyone ate their fill. For the first time, they felt prosperous.

She contacted Jesus and they fell back into their old training sessions. It was a healthier outlet on the days she struggled. They traded barbs back and forth and he never mentioned the Saviors unless she did.

Summer came and she remembered what happiness felt like. Choosing it sometimes took all she had, but she fought for that choice again and again.

There were still nightmares, of course. Sometimes she or her Misfits would wake in the night and hold each other until the shaking subsided. Sometimes, when it rained, a chill would trickle down her spine and she would have to wrap her arms around herself, afraid her lungs were filling up with something other than air.

And then one day, when the rain came and she curled up on the couch to sleep through it, she dreamed.

It started the way it usually did. Buried, choking, clawing to escape.

Until her fingers grasped someone else's fingers, and they were strong and unbelievably warm, and she could _breathe_.

Something poured through her. Sunlight, moonlight, starlight.

_May_.

The faintest voice.

_You're almost home._

When she woke, the rain had stopped, the clouds rolling back to reveal the late afternoon sun. Feeling pleasantly weightless, she grabbed her iPod and headed out, through the gate and out into the woods.

Droplets hung from the trees like molten gold. Bird song bubbled in the champagne air.

This world still existed, she realized. The beautiful one. The one she missed.

She could choose to believe in it again. She could choose that.

The sun came through the branches and dazzled her, and she was struck by the oddest sensation. That after years of tossing about on an ocean, she was about to reach the shore.

~m~

A few days later, she hummed to herself as she set up one of her walker traps. Wired her iPod to her scavenged speakers and let the dead come.

Quite a few arrived. She sang them to her. The sun beat down.

An arrow cut through the world.

Suddenly there were three strangers, fighting away the dead, and for a moment, she pictured James and Saul, Adam and Kurt, Everett and Deb.

But…no. No.

They were trying to help her.

There were still good people. She could choose to believe that, too.

She jumped in to help them. Smiled at one of the men because it felt good to do so and said, "Move, dumbass."

He looked at her the way she'd looked at the night sky, those weeks after the cities went dark. Nervously complimented her fighting ability.

She liked the way he talked. She liked what a smile did to his eyes. She liked his fumbling earnestness and the way he genuinely seemed to want to help, even if he wasn't sure how.

He was only himself, nothing more or less. That was the impression he gave her. And it was just a feeling. He was just a stranger, but…

She wanted to trust again. Maybe that part of her wasn't dead after all, but she'd never know unless she took that leap.

So she chose trust.

~m~

When the story ended, there was silence for a long time. Beth, Eugene and Daryl stared at her, then at each other. Trying to find something to say, or maybe realizing there was nothing to say.

They'd listened without interrupting through the whole thing, except to hold her through the harder parts, the parts she cried through. And they were looking at her differently now, but not the same way the people in her Kingdom did. Not like she was a monster at all. Just more clearly.

By now their shift was nearly over and her voice was raw from the telling. All of her was raw, and yet a distinct weight had lifted.

"Now you know everything," she finally said, but she looked down as she spoke. _Everything, but one thing…_

Beth was the first to move, wrapping Mason in a tight embrace. "I'm so, so sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry any of that happened to you."

Mason closed her eyes. "It's okay," she whispered back. "It's all okay now."

And even though it wasn't, she thought maybe it could be.

Eugene and Daryl hugged her, too, and she felt at home in their arms.

"I love you guys," she said. "Thank you for letting me tell you."

"Thank you for telling us," Eugene replied. "That kind of honesty requires no small amount of bravery. And we...we love you, too."

It looked as though they had more to say, had finally figured it out, but at that point, Lily, Charlie and Dray came up to take the next shift. They could talk later, Mason decided, and gestured for Beth and Daryl to head back down to ground level. But when Eugene made to follow, she hesitated and then touched his arm.

"Eugene. I want to thank you," she said.

He blinked. "For what?"

"For…" She chewed her lip, trying to find the right words. "Well, I was trying so hard for so long to find myself again, and I was making progress, but…there were some parts of me I was afraid were lost forever. I wasn't sure I would ever be brave enough to trust someone outside my family again. But then I met you. And, yeah, I know that's kinda funny since you're the best liar in the multiverse, but…I mean it."

He ducked his head shyly, but not before she glimpsed the gratitude welling in his eyes.

"Well, I…I… Honest and true, ma'am, I am attempting to configure the correct response here and coming up blank."

She smiled. "That's okay. I just, I want you to know…that being around you was like stepping into the sun again. I couldn't believe I could feel that warmth with anyone new. And I felt…I felt like…"

But how to put it into words? That being around him reminded her of how she used to be, how she could be? That some dormant part of her had flickered back to life as she got to know him, and realized that she'd been searching for the way he made her feel for a long time? That when she was around him, she didn't fight to be happy, she just _was_?

She shook her head and said simply, "You made me feel _hopeful_ again."

A smile lit his face. "I am glad, Mason. More than glad. And if I may, the sentiment is reciprocated. I have been on the path to bettering myself for some time but I have never felt more capable of doing so than when I am with you."

She hugged him again. She couldn't help herself. After a moment, he spoke.

"He was incorrect, you know. You are not someone who hurts people. I know the type and you do not fit the bill at all."

She pulled back a bit, swallowing hard. That was something she still struggled with, something she still had nightmares about.

"Miss Reynolds." He waited until she met his gaze. "You may be the Reaper. You may have the undeniable ability to kick so much ass. But you are a good person. Truly the best I have ever had the privilege of knowing. He may have succeeded in convincing you to shoulder that blame, but bottom line, plain and honest, whatever you did or didn't do, _he _was the one who swung that bat. He cannot tell you who you are. He does not have that power."

She stared at him a moment before a small, accusing smile lifted one corner of her mouth. "I thought you said you were bad at advice."

He must have sensed she wanted to change the subject, because he just shrugged and said, "Well, I was merely being modest. If you want the full truth of the matter, I am actually a very impressive being who succeeds at absolutely everything I put my mind to. Except for all the failures. Which never happened."

"Because you're impressive?" she giggled.

"That's right."

"Alright, c'mon, Mr. Impressive. We've got a few hours, maybe we can actually sleep."

She followed him down the ladder, nodding at her Misfits as they settled on the roof.

The sight of them brought back a twinge of anxiety, which she desperately tried to shove aside. But it was impossible. Reliving everything had brought it all back to the surface.

She had told the truth. Every morsel that she could bear, she'd told it.

Except…

Except when it had come time to reveal the deal they'd made with the Saviors, she hadn't done so. She had edited carefully around it to make it sound as though their first payment had been the only payment Negan ever demanded.

She couldn't explain why exactly. They knew everything else, knew how dangerous the Saviors were, knew they would stop at nothing to get what they wanted. That they were something to be avoided at all costs.

But she wondered, after this Wolf business was over, if they _would_ avoid them.

If they knew the Kingdom served the Saviors, would they want to fight them? Worse still, would they lose their trust in the Kingdom?

No, no, they had risked their lives together for long enough now, she didn't think that would happen. But what if they thought they could stand against Negan?

_That was what you were hoping for when you met them._

Yes, but that had changed. She didn't want Alexandria anywhere near him now. Even two communities banded together were not enough. Telling them about the deal had felt like one thing too much, too dangerous to risk.

Yet for all her attempts to shield them, it still begged the question, one she couldn't stomach entertaining for too long.

How long could they stay hidden from Negan?

They had already done the impossible, living in virtual obscurity like this for so long. A visit from him was long overdue.

As she followed Eugene back into the workshop, the faces of everyone she'd lost flashed once more through her mind.

Somehow, some way, she had to protect them. She couldn't fail this time, she couldn't bear it.

She had to find a way.

**A/N: So I know Ezekiel's backstory is pretty vague in canon, but I thought it might be interesting to shed a bit more light on it. He just always gave off the vibe to me like...maybe something tragic happened when shit hit? On that note, however, I think it might be nice to take a break from all the tragedy and get into something more lighthearted? Next chapter will hint at some future plot points, but it will also be a little breather from the heavier shit. So yeah, hope y'all enjoy. As always, super huge thanks for reading and until next time, much love xoxo**


	22. Time to Pretend

**A/N: Hello, all! So I'm back with a pretty short chapter today, which I thought would be a nice break after all the really long ones recently. The chapter song is "Time to Pretend" by MGMT and it's so great. Warning for Mason being a horny dumbass, and for shameless goofiness and fluff. Thank you as always to my readers and reviewers, you guys are awesome. Hope you enjoy!**

22\. Time to Pretend

A figure approached, face obscured as though through murky water. Mason rattled her chains, crying Eugene's name, pleading with the stranger to stop.

But the knife flashed as it ran him through.

The searing pain jarred him awake. He sat up, hands grasping at his stomach. The agony faded by the time he ascertained all was as it should be, but the memory glinted in his mind, like the strike of that knife…

"Eugene?"

He glanced to his left, where he could barely make out the shape of Mason sitting up beside him. On his other side, Daryl grunted and rolled over. Beth must've gone to check on the infirmary.

"Shit. My sincerest apologies, Miss Mason, I did not mean to wake you."

"I was already awake."

He could tell by her voice. She'd woken up crying again.

"Nightmares?" she went on. Her hand searched through the dark until it found his.

"Uh…" That wasn't entirely the case, but he supposed it was the easiest answer. "Something like that, yes."

"Need to talk about it?"

He hesitated. Part of him wanted to, but it probably wasn't the best idea.

In this dream, he and Mason had been with each other for some time. They'd met in Houston right after the Fall and stuck together like glue, all the way to Virginia. And though they'd met many familiar faces along the way, they never stayed in one place too long. Somehow, in the midst of everything, they'd been happy.

The clearest moment in the dream was of Mason kissing him, sitting together outside a night-dark Richmond.

This alone was reason enough to keep his mouth shut. No way in hell he had the guts to confess to that.

But that wasn't the only reason. This stranger, the only one wrapped in obscurity, who in the dream had crossed paths with them somewhere in Virginia, and chased and tormented them until finally…

A cool finger trailed down his spine. His fingers knotted in his shirt, reaffirming there was no wound.

"No, ma'am," he murmured. "I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you. It is nothing personal, I would just prefer to forget it."

"Yeah, I understand. Sometimes I—"

Growling, Daryl kicked at them in his sleep. Mason pulled Eugene back down to the floor, giggling softly.

"Don't wanna wake the beast," she whispered. Her face was very close to his; even in the dark, he could feel the warmth of her proximity.

He laughed under his breath, blood rushing in his veins. The dream felt simultaneously immediate and distant.

He was close enough to kiss her.

She gripped their hands between them, scooting closer until her knees touched his. He swallowed hard.

"Do _you _need to talk, Miss Reynolds?" he blurted.

"No." Her voice shook. She sighed as though to smooth it. "But…would you mind doing something for me?"

"Of course."

"Will you sing for me?"

He blinked. "Pardon?"

She fidgeted, pulling her knees up. They brushed his thighs and he tried not to squirm.

"I'm sorry if that sounds stupid, but…I just, I don't know if I can get back to sleep and…I like it when you sing."

Out of habit, his nose wrinkled. "I am a terrible singer, Miss Reynolds."

"No, you're not." She sounded genuinely surprised, which genuinely surprised him. Unless she'd learned how to lie in the span of a few hours, she really meant it.

"Oh, well…that is certainly very kind. I, um…"

He used to sing all the time as a kid. He'd wanted to play guitar and sing in smoky bars the way his grandpa did. But his mother…had been quick to shut that down.

"You don't have to if you don't want."

"No," he said, shaking off the memory. "I-I do actually. What would you like to hear?"

"Whatever you like to sing."

She settled in while he thought about it. He chose the first song that popped into his head, at first because he thought it was soothing. But as the verses progressed, he realized it was because it reminded him of Mason. Which made his voice shake halfway through, but she never commented on it.

When he finished, she hummed contentedly for another. He tried to choose one that didn't bring her to mind, but it was a wasted effort. They all did.

Eventually, she nodded off, her face nuzzled up against their joined hands. He sang a few more in case she wasn't fully asleep before pulling free of her grasp. A part of him wanted nothing more than to stay, but right now, caught between her and the dream, it was unbearable. He wouldn't be able to sleep, not until his pulse came down from a mile a minute.

He ended up in the infirmary, where Beth, Renee and Rosita were keeping watch. Gabriel and Tyreese were the only patients left; Noah, Eric, Olivia and Abraham had all been released, and Aaron's cast had been taken off.

Renee and Rosita were sitting in a corner, both of them far too engrossed in their conversation to look up. Beth's eyes widened when she saw him. She wheeled over from Tyreese's bedside in her swivel chair.

"Hey. Feelin' alright?"

He wondered how he looked. "Fine, ma'am. I am merely gripped in a contest of Rochambeau with a nemesis of persistent caliber, by which I mean my own brain and its refusal to engage in anything resembling a decent night's sleep."

"I could give you somethin' for it if you want."

"No, but I thank you for the offer. I just needed to walk about for a few ticks, hopefully allow the soul-crushing exhaustion I've become such good acquaintances with catch back up to me."

Humor glimmered in her eyes. "Why don't you sit with me a bit, till it shows up again?"

Eugene sat cross-legged on the bed Abraham had vacated while Beth scrounged through the board games they stashed to keep patients entertained. She smirked and held up a checkers box.

"Told you I was gonna beat you next time," she said, plopping down across from him. "So don't feel too sad when I do; I'm just keepin' my word."

"Your confidence is both inspiring and tragic."

She stuck her tongue out and arranged the pieces, some of which had been replaced by bottle caps and buttons painted red or black. Eugene let her go first.

"So where is Denise?"

"The three of us thought it'd be nice to give her a night off, since she's been workin' her tail off lately." Beth skipped a piece over his, smiling slightly. "I think Tara was tryin' to plan some big date night thing. She came in askin' what the most romantic canned food was. It was cute."

"I hope she chose beets. Everyone knows they are by far the most romantic root vegetable. King me."

"You sound like that guy from _The Office. _We told her artichoke hearts."

"You told her _artichokes_?"

"Artichoke _hearts_. Because hearts?"

"I am familiar with the organ. I will be the first to admit I am not as familiar with courtship, but by and large I do believe an artichoke does not a romantic gesture make."

"Well, we didn't have any canned hearts lyin' around, so we had to make do. Besides, who really decides what's romantic and what's not? Maybe she laid a trail of artichoke petals up to the bed or somethin'?"

He snorted. "Alright, fair play. That would sweep me off my feet, and you can take that to the bank."

She snickered and claimed two more of his pieces. "Speaking of sweeping you off your feet, how is Mason?"

Her casual tone threw him, but he merely rolled his eyes. She blinked hers innocently.

"What? I was workin' in here all day, I didn't see her much. King me."

"She is…much the same. That is to say, she has not changed her mind on the matter of therapy."

They had hoped she'd be more receptive to getting help after confessing about the Saviors, but she was as stubborn as ever. She insisted she would try it out after the Wolves had been taken care of, but he worried she would keep finding reasons to put it off.

"And I believe she is getting less sleep," he went on.

"Yeah, I've noticed that, too." Beth sighed. "Somethin's on her mind but I can't tell what. Do you think it's cuz she told us about…you know?"

He frowned. Mason had seemed genuinely relieved to get her story off her chest, but Beth was right. Something was on her mind. And perhaps it was just because he found himself thinking of her tale so often, but he couldn't help the feeling that it was something to do with that.

"Maybe." _Even more reason for her to see Denise, _he thought with frustration.

Beth stared at the board for a moment and then said, "We should distract her. I mean, just until after the Wolves." There was a strange edge to her voice he didn't understand. "I'm not talkin', like, the way she represses things, but somethin' to keep her here, now."

"Alright…" He skipped his game piece over three of hers. "How do you suggest?"

~m~

Gazing out from the watch post, sipping pensively on her coffee, Mason could almost pretend she was in a moody and dramatic music video. The _almost_ came from the fact that she was not currently listening to music, even though she very much wanted to be. She was tired and unfocused and her heart felt overstrained, like it needed a good stretch.

Clouds obscured the sky, darkening her already dismal mood. Last night, after Eugene sang her to sleep, she'd dreamt she and him were running through a forest of ash, pursued by a wall of thrashing limbs and body parts. It gained and gained on them, scuttling like a giant millipede, until they were consumed. She'd jolted awake around dawn, and hadn't been able to get back to sleep, so she'd decided to relieve Michonne of the rest of her watch shift. She was only wishing now she'd chosen something more…distracting.

She tried to busy herself wrapping her stitches nice and tight. Denise hadn't been happy when she and Eugene said they wanted to start up training again, but Mason had promised they'd take it slow and keep an eye on their wounds. But though she bound and re-bound her arm, it did nothing to occupy her thoughts.

Tomorrow, she would return to the Kingdom, to make some last minute arrangements before Alexandria scoped out the Wolves' home turf. She was more than a little nervous about it; her stomach swirled with the same uneasiness she used to get on the first day of school.

It didn't really make sense. Over the past year, she'd acclimated to the Kingdom's tepid acceptance of her. She'd made that place home, carved out a relatively happy existence there.

She'd also tried not to think too hard about certain things, she supposed. Certain things she'd recently revealed to her new best friends. And with those things fresh like an open wound in her mind, she felt suddenly disconnected from that existence, as though she'd rolled out of bed in her sleep.

Daryl, Beth and Eugene would go back with her, along with most of the Misfits, and that made it better. Plus, it would likely only be a day, and then she and the reconnaissance group would depart for the Wolves' hideout. But when she wasn't worried about going home, she was agonizing over what to do to keep Alexandria safe from Negan. She could barely focus on the here and now, and she was well aware of how dangerous that was. They still had a war to win against the Wolves. She couldn't let her anxiety pull her out of the present.

The ladder creaked, announcing Rick as he climbed up to her.

"You're early," she said. "Your shift doesn't start for another half hour."

"Well, I was already up. Michonne says thanks again, by the way." He stood by her side, surveying the mist-shrouded woods before glaring at the sky. "Mornings like this, I feel hungover."

She blinked and he raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"I just…can't picture you hungover."

This amused him. "You can't?"

"Well, no. You seem too…responsible."

"_Responsible_," he chuckled. "Younger me would have a few choice things to say about that…"

She tried to picture him getting up to some of the dumb shit she and her Misfits had. The images it conjured were more than a little absurd.

"I see you doubting me," he said. "But I've been to a fair share of ragers in my time. Drank my weight after homecoming. Woke up in Tim Stooks' field surrounded by cows. Smoked a bit too much and tried to put pants on Felicity Winfield's chickens."

A shocked laugh escaped her. "Oh my god, really? That's so funny, because one time when me and Dave were stoned, we went around to all the mannequins in the mall and put pants on their arms. For some reason we thought that was the funniest shit."

"Excuse me?" Rick eyed her sternly, but there was a teasing glimmer in his eyes. "I hope you don't mean the kind of stoned I think you do. I don't want to hear about you smoking that Mary Jane, young lady, you understand me?"

She stifled her giggles and tried to look serious. "Oh no, sir, I would never do something like that."

"Good. Oh." He reached into his pocket and held out a Snickers bar. "I almost forgot. Took that from our stash this morning. Thought you deserved a pick-me-up."

"Oh. Thank you." The gesture touched her more than she expected it to. She put her coffee down so she could unwrap it.

He glanced back at the woods. "After tomorrow, we'll figure out everything we need to move forward. And then we are gonna finish this."

"Yeah." A rush of nerves returned, tingling up from her stomach and out through her fingertips.

"I know I said it before," he went on, "but thank you. After some of the people we've met on our way here, I had my doubts. But I'm grateful our paths crossed."

For a moment, she couldn't speak. She thought of the way she'd taken that same leap the day they'd met. She thought maybe sometimes the universe put the same pain in different people so that they could be drawn together like magnets.

"Thank you," she murmured. "I'm grateful, too."

He patted her shoulder. "Beth and Eugene'll probably be up soon. Go and get ready for your lessons. I'll take it from here. Just make sure to eat some real breakfast, alright?"

"No problem, Dad. Dude!" Heat rushed to her cheeks. "Er, no problem…doodad…"

_Doodad? No problem, doodad? _

She laughed awkwardly. "But, yeah, um, breakfast, I'll, uh…eat that."

Mortified, she scurried for the ladder to make her escape, but not before she saw the surprise melt into warmth on Rick's face.

~m~

Mason waited for Beth and Eugene in the training yard, drawing her toe back and forth over the wrestling mats she'd brought from the Kingdom. She smiled when she saw them, but the pinch around her eyes made it apparent her mind was elsewhere.

Beth brushed her fingers along the hem of her shorts. They were shorter than she was used to, and hugged her curves tighter than her usual pair did. She couldn't help a brief flutter of self-consciousness, but it evaporated when she saw Mason's eyes widen.

"Uh, morning." Mason cleared her throat. "Are those new?"

"Sorta. I scavenged 'em a while back but I've never worn 'em till now. You like them?"

"Yeah, they're—they're cute."

Beth beamed and Mason quickly turned away. Eugene sighed under his breath.

They started off as they usually did, stretches and laps around the neighborhood before diving into sparring. Mason had them practice attacking as a team, offsetting techniques for fighting with an ally with demonstrations for defending against multiple attackers.

"Remember, if you have the choice and you don't think you're going to win, don't try," she told them. "There's being a hero and there's being a dumbass. I've been the latter often enough to tell you with confidence that it was really mostly luck that got me out of those situations. But if you have to fight, strategize and prioritize. Try to figure out who is critical to take out first, and if you can, try to be fierce about it. I know that sounds like some alpha male bullshit, but honestly, if you can get your attackers as reluctant as possible to attack you, you've won half the battle."

Though Beth already knew how great a fighter she was, she couldn't help being amazed as Mason met their attacks again and again. Though she had to adjust to make allowances for her stitches as well as Eugene's, the grace and confidence she exuded was enviable. And…well, Beth would be lying if it wasn't a little sexy, too.

She and Eugene held their own fairly well, a testament to how their skills had grown. Mason still beat them in the end, but it took more time and effort.

"Alright," she said after a while. "Water break and then we'll switch back to one-on-ones."

Beth and Eugene relaxed gratefully, both of them covered in sweat. It didn't look as though the sun was coming out anytime soon, but humidity built below its thick blanket and hung on everything like dew.

"You know, you two are shaping up into some pretty serious warriors," Mason said. "Pretty soon, you'll be kicking my ass."

Something dark swept over the pride in her eyes. Her brow pinched again.

Beth spoke before she could allow the nerves to overcome her. "I…can't believe how muggy it is today."

It was an artless segue and she knew it. The words came out clumsy because she'd never done anything like this before. But she ignored the confused look Mason threw her and listened instead to the part of her that warmed under her gaze.

She pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it aside. "There. That's better."

Mason blinked, taking in the pink sports bra she'd carefully selected that morning before looking away.

"Uh, yeah, it's—it's super hot. The…today." She stood abruptly, staring intently at the sky. Her fingers tapped restlessly on her thighs. "Welp, I'm rested, let's get back to it."

Satisfaction flickered in Beth's belly. She smiled. "I'm ready when you are."

"Alright, Beth, I'll do you first. Have you first. I'll…you first." Mason coughed and busied herself with tightening her ponytail.

Eugene threw Beth a look of what she could only describe as good-natured disapproval. She grinned wider and pranced over to Mason.

New energy crackled under her skin as they jumped back into sparring. Every touch was a livening burn, sharpening her senses, and from the way Mason moved, it seemed to be having the same effect on her. Until finally, Beth hooked a leg around Mason's and they tumbled to the ground.

Laughter bubbled between them as Beth pressed Mason's arms into the grass.

"That's a point for me," she said.

Mason held her gaze a moment, smile lingering, before glancing over her shoulder at Eugene.

"Yep. Good pin. Nice…form."

Beth stifled another giggle and pulled Mason to her feet. Their hands stayed clasped a heartbeat longer than necessary.

"Alright, let's switch out." Mason cleared her throat, blushing deeply. "Eugene, you're up."

~m~

Beth brought Mason over as Eugene was finishing dinner.

"…go to any trouble, seriously," Mason was saying as they walked through the door.

Beth waved off her concern. "We didn't, don't worry."

"Evening, Miss Greene, Miss Reynolds. Your timing is impeccable, as I am about to sieve this sauce for the embellishment of our bread pudding."

"It smells really good," Mason said, coming over to peer into the saucepan. "What is it?"

"It is a dessert beet sauce," he replied, shooting Beth a wry smirk. Beth rolled her eyes.

Mason raised an eyebrow. "Beets?"

"Beets and raspberries, to be exact."

"Can I try?"

"Nothing would delight me more, ma'am."

He stirred the thick, red suffusion vigorously another moment, unable to help a flicker of self-consciousness. It wasn't logical for this to put such a quiver in his stomach; he cooked for his group quite often. Daryl had even dropped by earlier and given his seal of approval.

Well, to be more accurate, he had given the entire kitchen a suspicious glare, grunted "Fuck is this?", then stuck his finger into the sauce without giving Eugene a chance to answer.

Eugene had swatted him away with a scowl and said, "Could you at least act as though you have some semblance of manners? I am simply asking for bare bones minimum here."

But Daryl merely sucked the sauce from his finger with an obnoxious slurp, flipping him off as he backed out of the house.

Of course, he supposed it was only natural to feel a bit keyed up, given that this dinner not only served as a thank you to Mason for all she had done, but another distraction.

Mason giggled, pressing a hand to her lips like she hadn't meant to. He blinked.

"What is so funny?"

"I'm sorry, um, that's just…" She pointed at the sauce. "That's what good pussy sounds like."

He snorted and she leaned her head on his arm, laughing with him.

"_Wow_," Beth called teasingly from the living room. "That's really tasteless, Mason."

Eugene held the spoon out to Mason. She sipped a bit and her eyes lit up.

"Well, I may be tasteless but this pussy sure isn't."

She barely got the words out before cackling again, so hard she lost her grip on the spoon. She played hot potato with it for a moment, spattering sauce everywhere and laughing even harder at her own clumsiness, before it finally clattered to the ground.

"Aw, shit." She drooped in exaggerated defeat, hands and arms splotched with glaze. "Sorry."

Eugene's lips twitched. "Well, shit, Miss Champion, I was not aware that you could juggle."

"Shut up. Dude, I think there's some in my fucking ear." She reached up to check before remembering her hands were covered in sauce. "Okay, could you…?"

She craned her neck for him to check. There wasn't any in her ear, but there was a trail dripping from her earlobe to her collarbone. He reached out to wipe it away.

Her breath caught when he brushed her ear and he hesitated.

"I apologize, ma'am, that was thoughtless of me. I do not rightly know why I thought you meant I should… Here, let me—"

"I-it's okay," she said quickly. "I did mean that, actually, cuz my hands… I'm just sensitive there, that's all." A deep blush darkened her cheeks. "I mean, not…_sensitive_, just…I wasn't expecting it to…I-I don't know what I'm saying." She laughed feebly and gestured for him to continue.

He did so quickly, a new, not wholly unpleasant weakness in his fingertips. When he reached her collarbone, her eyes closed briefly and she exhaled a short, shaky breath.

"Thank you," she said.

"Uh, yes. Of course."

They held each others' gaze a moment before Beth walked in, bearing a towel. Her expression was half-amused, half-irritated.

"Here." She handed it to Mason.

"For what?"

"Your arms?"

"Oh! Oh, right, I forgot."

Mason rinsed off in the sink then dried herself with the towel, moving as though each action required her absolute attention. Then she glanced shyly in Eugene's direction.

"That was really nice, by the way."

He started. "To what…are you referring?"

"Oh, the, uh, the sauce. I meant the sauce."

Beth crossed her arms over her chest. "So, do y'all think we can eat now or are you gonna start jugglin' knives next?"

Mason ducked her head. "You're right, that's more closing act material, anyway."

Eugene stepped back to let them fix their plates first. They chattered and joked as they bustled about, spooning out their portions. Half of it ended up in their mouths before it could reach their plates.

He smiled watching them. Their laughter made the house feel much warmer and fuller.

Beth waved him over, eyes glowing. "Come make your plate while there's still some left."

So he took his place with them.

~m~

Mason sat squeezed between Beth and Eugene on the couch, and though the food was delicious, she found it incredibly hard to eat. Her stomach fluttered each time they brushed against her, and the warmth of their thighs pressed against hers was enough to make her a little light-headed.

They watched movies while they ate, scary ones they'd scavenged up just for her. The first was incredibly cheesy, and they ended up laughing and cracking jokes through most of it. The second was actually well-done. On more than one occasion, a creepy scene would have Beth or Eugene cuddling closer, and it would take a massive effort to refocus on the movie.

Through the whole thing, she felt simultaneously fuzzy and alert. They dozed off at some point during the third movie, and the feeling followed her into sleep. She dreamed the three of them were in the training yard together, and she was leading a typical training session, except that Beth and Eugene were…were naked.

Her consciousness twitched with shock, but not enough to wake her. Her dream-self kept up the session as though there was nothing strange about it. But after a blur of sparring, they managed to pin her.

And after that…after that the training melted to something else, something entirely heat and hands, lips and skin, so vigorous she awoke hot and flushed.

It took her a moment to remember where she was. Morning light illuminated the living room in the house Eugene shared with Abraham and Sasha. Beth was curled with her head in Mason's lap. Eugene slouched on Mason's right, snoring into her shoulder.

Instantly the contents of her dream flooded back and her skin prickled as though it were seconds from bursting into flames. Carefully, she squirmed out from under them and fled into the kitchen just as Sasha came down the stairs.

"Hey," Sasha said, reaching into the cupboard for some tea. "How was your night?"

"Uh. It was nice. It was great."

"Eugene and Beth were really excited to do it for you."

"It was really sweet of them." Mason rubbed the back of her neck. "Would, uh, would you mind waking them in a bit? We'll be leaving for the Kingdom soon. I'm just gonna…I'll be in the bathroom."

Sasha side-eyed her knowingly, which just made Mason rub her neck harder. "Of course."

Mason retreated to the upstairs bathroom, nearly slamming the door behind her. She went to sit on the edge of the tub, relishing the cool ceramic against her skin.

_Okay. So…first wet dream in a while. No big deal. Just think of…not horny things…_

She sat there for a while, trying her best. But all her brain would conjure up was Beth in her sports bra, and Eugene's thumb on her collarbone, and their bodies against hers on the couch and in the dream…

"Dammit," she hissed and reached for the bathtub faucet to splash water on her face.

The showerhead came on instead, soaking her in water so cold she might've shrieked if she'd had the breath to.

"_Fuck_!"

She scrambled out of the spray, nearly slipping on the tile floor. She stood there, dripping and stunned, before smacking the handle back to the off position.

Grumbling under her breath, she swung open the bathroom door and jumped when she saw Eugene with his hand raised, about to knock.

"Shit!"

"Apologies, Mason, it was not my intention to startle you. Sasha merely informed me that you might be in here. Renee is assembling the group to return to the Kingdom and what, may I ask, happened to you?"

She fumbled for an explanation, but the dominant portion of her rationality was struggling not to picture him the way he'd looked in her dream.

"I. Um. Accident."

He raised an eyebrow and she shrugged with a faint smile.

"I forgot clothes existed for a minute?"

Before Eugene could reply, Abraham walked past. He chuckled when he saw her.

"The hell happened to you, girlie? You fall in the toilet or something?"

"It was an accident," she snapped.

"You _did _fall in the toilet?"

She glared flatly. "You know what? Sure. C'mon, Eugene."

Downstairs, Sasha and Beth both laughed in surprise at her appearance, and before they could ask, she said, "I fell in the ocean."

It was too much to hope that others wouldn't notice on her way back to Beth's house for a change of clothes. Eugene and Beth snickered while she kept up a medley of increasingly sarcastic replies.

"I pissed off Aquarius."

"It started raining, but only above my head."

"I'm just sweating, like, a lot."

She changed quickly and they hurried to the gate, where Renee, Dave, Lily, Dray, Charlie and Daryl were waiting by the truck.

Despite her best efforts, a happy little shiver ran through her when she ended up in the backseat, squeezed between Beth and Eugene.

~m~

"Hey." Mason glanced around the kitchen as she addressed Renee and Dave. "Can I talk to you guys?"

"Sure. What's up?" Renee leaned against the counter, steeping a bag of Earl Grey. Dave gave a thumbs-up while he riffled through the fridge.

"Well. Okay, um." She twiddled her thumbs. Sat on the edge of the table. Kicked her legs. It was late in the evening, and she'd been busy all day making sure the Kingdom was prepared in the event the Wolves decided to attack here. But now, with most everything taken care of, her thoughts drifted back to Eugene and Beth.

"Yes…?" Renee prompted.

Mason sighed. "Last night, I had this dream…"

She explained about the dream and what had led up to it. Renee and Dave passed a sleeve of crackers back and forth while they listened. They didn't interrupt, though she saw them exchange several loaded glances before she'd finished.

"And…yeah, that's why I was all wet this morning," she concluded.

Dave choked on a cracker. Renee hid her laugh in her mug.

Mason scowled. "That's _not _what I meant."

Renee held her hands up. "Alright, alright. Look, Mason…you're clearly attracted to both of them, and they're clearly attracted to you."

"You don't know that. I mean, yeah, Beth, but…Eugene's never said anything…"

"Well, why don't _you _talk to _him_? You were going to before."

"You need to talk to both of them," Dave added. "That's the only way any of you are gonna come to any kind of, like, resolution."

"And what, what resolution could there possibly be that wouldn't hurt one of them?"

Renee and Dave shared another one of those looks before Renee replied, "You could date them both."

Mason stared. "At…at the same time? Like a threesome?"

"Technically I think it would be a vee," Dave said.

"I-I can't do that."

"You mean you wouldn't want that, or what?"

"I'm not saying…" She swallowed. It wasn't as though the thought was unappealing. But the thought of actually broaching the subject? "I just can't."

Renee sighed in exasperation. "Well, you're gonna have to talk to them sometime. Look, I'm not saying they'll want that, but you'll never know _what_ they want or what might work out if you don't communicate. You can't just let things continue the way they are."

Dave elbowed her. "There's always the risk someone could get hurt. But they deserve your honesty."

She flinched. That was the exact reason she'd told them about the Saviors. If she could do that, she could talk to them about this. Right? Certainly she had the strength for that?

She didn't feel like she did. She rubbed her arm and hopped off the table.

"Thanks, guys. Really. I'm just not ready for that right now. Anyway, Jerry and Ezekiel wanted to discuss Alexandria's game plan, so I should get going."

Neither of them looked surprised. For some reason, that stung. She mumbled a goodbye and headed for the auditorium.

~m~

The next morning, as she was leaving the dining hall with Daryl, Beth and Eugene, she caught Selene staring darkly at her new wounds. Her eyes narrowed as Mason met her gaze, flashing her a look of deep suspicion.

Mason flushed and lowered her head. But as she did, it dawned on her that this was the first she'd felt uncomfortable since returning home. The realization almost took her breath away.

"You got somethin' you wanna say?" Daryl grunted. She glanced up to see him glaring openly at Selene. Beth and Eugene pressed closer to Mason.

Donovan appeared at Selene's side. "Why don't you people mind your business?" he said.

"_Us _mind _our _business?" Eugene said. "I believe you have that backwards, friend."

There was a tense beat of silence. Then Beth held up her middle finger, giggling a little when Mason let out an alarmed squeak.

Daryl and Eugene followed suit, eliciting an offended gasp from Selene.

"Guys!" Mason hissed, even as a smile teased the corners of her mouth. She tugged at their arms. "What are you doing?"

But Beth and Eugene grinned encouragingly at her. Daryl didn't tear his glare from Selene and Donovan, but he reached back to nudge her.

So after a moment of deliberation, she flashed her own middle finger, and it felt so good that she flashed the other one, too.

Furiously, Donovan waved them off. "Oh, get your disrespectful asses out of here! Go find something useful to do."

"C'mon," Mason giggled, nudging her friends away while keeping one finger in the air. It felt silly and immature and so, so freeing. "The recon group'll be here soon."

Once they were at the gate, Mason turned to them. "Thanks, guys."

Daryl shrugged gruffly. "Ain't nothin'."

"Nothing that their general discourtesy did not bring on themselves," Eugene agreed.

She met his gaze, and then Beth's, thinking of last night, the brightness and laughter it had brought her.

"Really," she said softly. "Thank you."

Just then, Richard called down from the watch post. "Truck approaching! Looks like the recon group."

Mason opened the gate to meet the truck as it pulled to a stop. Glenn, Abraham, Rosita and Tara stepped out to greet them.

She smiled. Maybe she was still riding the high from standing up for herself, but she felt a peculiar and sudden wave of affection for everyone standing there with her.

"I like this group," she said.

"Yeah, it's the dream team," Abraham grinned, and motioned for them to pile into the truck.

Mason sat in the bed with Daryl, Eugene and Beth. She couldn't help thinking of her discussion with Renee and Dave as she sandwiched herself once more between Eugene and Beth. She knew she would need to talk to them eventually.

But before that, before any resolution could be made or any healing could be had, they had a war to win.

The here and now was all that mattered.

**A/N: As I said before, I know this was a shorter chapter, but I wanted to fit in the fluffy shenanigans before we get into some other stuff concerning the Wolves. Hopefully it was a fun little intermission from the heavier stuff. Thank you as always for reading, it really means the world to me! Hope you all are doing well and until next time, much love xoxo**


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